In the Shadows
by momonigiri
Summary: All Eleanor Simon wants to do is her job. She knows she is not agent material, and she is fine with that. She is fine with being invisible, and she is fine with people not knowing her name. But how is she supposed to remain in the shadows after meeting someone like Red? (AU)
1. The Perks of Getting Lost

**A/N: I know this story isn't exactly in the normal fandom I write for, but I've been having a bit of writer's block again so I thought I'd write a short piece about a show I've recently started watching. At the time I'm publishing this, I've only seen up to Season 1 Episode 6 while also having seen a quote or two pop up on my pinterest feed. I got the idea to write this when I saw a writer's prompt about writing a sort of self-insert piece in a time and place where you would not belong. **

**The songs listed in each chapter played a pivotal part in my writing process, so if you want to know the mood of the chapter a little better, listen to the lyrics. The important lyrics are in italicized quotes. :D**

**I've also inserted show quotes underneath the episode titles in later chapters to give you a sense of how I weave everything together. **

**Story song: "Angels" by The xx**

**Songs in the Chapter: "Falling Slowly" by Glen Hansard, Markéta Irglová**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Blacklist, I just play in its sandbox~**

* * *

"_I don't know you, but I want you all the more for that_\- - -"

The song "Falling Slowly" invades my sleeping consciousness, and I roll over to place a pillow over my head.

I hate mornings.

Amidst the various choice words I spew out to the universe, I somehow manage to drag myself out of bed to slip into something more suitable for work. Now leaning slightly against the cane gripped beneath my fingertips, I stare at myself in the mirror. My brown eyes are frighteningly large and filled with apprehension and anxiety as I continue to study the reflection in the glass. I smooth out the collar of my white, buttoned-down blouse for the umpteenth time as I make sure my black pants and matching shoes are free of wrinkles and scuffs.

"Relax," I tell the person staring back at me. "You'll do fine."

Seems like my positive self-talk does little to counteract the overwhelming nervousness I'm feeling about my first day with the FBI.

"Where do you work? What do you do?" These questions are harmless common occurrences in daily small-talk. But now, classifying what exactly it is that I "do" for the FBI could get me in serious trouble. I am a far cry from a special agent, but that does not excuse me from the strict standards of confidentiality the FBI is known for.

I shake my head to rid myself of my wayward thoughts, grab my bag and hat, and head down the hallway to my Aunt Lilian's room. The woman stirs when I plant a kiss on her cheek, but she drifts off to sleep again quickly.

* * *

The home-care nurse is at my doorstep just when I am leaving, and I am grateful she is on time. I move aside, and she steps inside the apartment before shutting the heavy door. I take out my phone and quickly type in the walking directions to the subway route I needed to take to get to work.

_I don't know how anyone can find their way around with all these buildings and cars_, I think to myself as I walk down the street while trying to juggle a phone, a bag and a cane. Having moved to DC less than a week ago, I am dreadfully unfamiliar with how people get around the city using public transportation. I inhale deeply as I make my way to the nearest subway station, and pray to whatever deity is in the universe that I am able to accurately read the subway maps.

I step inside the subway train and the doors close. I stumble in a clumsy array of moving limbs with each jerk and pull the train makes, and all I want to do is hide under a rock. In my anxious hurry to exit the embarrassing scene I am making of myself, I unknowingly get off at the wrong stop.

_Should I just wait for the next one?_ I think as I ascend the steps to reach the outside world. No, I decide, looking down at my phone as the robotic lady's voice tells me to take a right at the next street. I am on the right path once again in a matter of no time, and I walk a few blocks away from the subway station.

But my phone gurgles in a downward spiral, and my heart stops. "No, you stupid thing!" I hiss at it angrily. It replies with the symbol of an electrical socket and a lightning bolt glaring at me before dying completely.

My hands begin to tremble and my breath is caught in my chest. Sure, if this were to happen to most other people, their logical reaction to this would be to just "retrace their steps," take the subway, and go about their merry way, problem solved. It's times like this where I feel the harsh limitations of my condition as it makes it nearly impossible for me to do something so many take for granted. For me, I have little sense of direction due to the effect my condition has on my brain. So in my mind, going _to_ someplace requires me to memorize the steps along the way to the place as well as the path I'd take to get _back_. In other words, if I walk somewhere and turn around, I may as well have been in a completely different place altogether. Needless to say, my sense of direction is one of the main reasons I could never be a special agent. I find a bench to sit down in order to rethink how I am going to get to my workplace while scolding myself for carelessly forgetting to charge my phone the night before.

A man sits next to me, and I catch a glimpse of the dark-colored fedora adorning his head and eyes that are hidden behind large sunglasses. He places a brown, leather briefcase by his side and sighs softly.

I feel a cramp tensing up my bad leg, and I run my hand along my thigh and calf to alleviate the pain.

The man is looking ahead, seemingly lost in thought, but when I clear my throat he turns to look at me.

I swallow thickly at his expressionless face. "I'm sorry for bothering you, but are you familiar with this area?"

The man watches me in silence, and I feel like he is debating with himself whether or not to answer.

"You could say that," he finally responds tersely. When I continued to stare at him, he shifts his body to face me properly."Where do you need to go?"

"The FBI headquarters around here," I reply hopefully.

He laughs wryly. "As luck would have it, I have to go in that direction as well," he says as he stands in a swift movement. He looks at me with an unsmiling face as he waits for me to follow him.

I grimace when I move, and the tenseness in my leg muscles tightens. The man is still waiting for me to move, but does not speak.

"Ah, uh...stupid leg of mine gives me trouble from time to time, especially during cold mornings," I say hastily in response to him studying me from behind his sunglasses.

I can't tell exactly where he's looking, but I assume he discovers my cane resting next to me. He extends his hand to me. My lips thin in a resigned smile as I reluctantly take his offer to help me to my feet."The name's Raymond, or Red, if you'd prefer."

I shake my leg until the cramp subsides, and I follow Red down the next few streets until we reach a tall, official-looking building.

* * *

"Here you are, the FBI," he says with a small grin.

Whatever the joke was that was making him smile like that, he did not tell me. "So, where are you off to?" I ask.

He promptly sits down on a concrete bench in front of the building, and looks me in the eyes. "I'm waiting for a friend here. After that, I'll see where the day takes me."

I smile and notice how pleasant this man appears to be- - -not many men in this day in age are what I would call "dapper," but this man is. I guess it is true what people say about the diversity to be found in big cities.

"Thank you very much for walking with me. I appreciate it," I say with a wave as I prepare myself to walk into the massively large building with entirely too many windows adorning the front.

_Well that was rude of me, I didn't even tell him my name_, I think to myself sheepishly as I open the double doors to the Bureau. I am led to a generic office space I am to share with another analyst, Whitney, and I quickly settle in. My first assignment is reporting on the known trade agreements of a particularly rural group of people in northern Japan, and I am glad to have the opportunity to begin my research right away.

It was shaping up to be a pretty average day.

Or so I thought.

* * *

Sirens blare and I nearly fall out of my chair. Whitney and I exchange glances and race for the door that leads out into the hallway. People are scurrying about, and I keep hearing the name "Reddington" being said in hushed whispers. I see Assistant Director Cooper, and he snaps his fingers in my direction. I hurry to his side and he looks at my ID badge.

"You're new today, correct?"

My eyes must be as wide as a deer in headlights. "Yes sir," I say, trying to maintain confidence in my voice.

"Good, then you wouldn't have been working on anything important yet- - -Simon," he replies, using my last name. I nod, not wanting to correct the man who could get me fired before I even start my job.

"I am assembling a group to go to the Post Office, and I need you to go along and get the agents whatever information they ask for."

I blink back my confusion at the odd request. "The...the what, Sir?"

"Just go to the black site with the people I'm sending out shortly. There's been an incident concerning a person of interest, and you could prove useful."

My heart feels like it is going to leap out of my chest. I'm a social scientist hired by the FBI to write reports on countries and cultures of particular regions. I don't have any experience in dealing with criminals. Random things like this don't just happen to someone like me. Assistant Director Cooper must have made a terrible mistake.

I finally find my voice to protest his decision. "But Sir, I- - -"

"I assume you know how to properly use a search engine, correct?" He interrupts me with a slightly annoyed glare.

I nod and follow Cooper as he makes a round of the building to collect various people to take with us to the black site. I still have no idea what's going on or why I'm even authorized to go to such a place.

I guess my first day is going to be anything but normal.

* * *

"There's a table set up in the back on the ground level. You are to watch the interaction between Agent Keen and Reddington, and report on everything from their movements and the clothes they are wearing, down to anything of significance you can see," Cooper tells me once we reach the abandoned Post Office the bureau now uses as a secret site for various purposes.

I stay quiet and get shuttled into an elevator where Assistant Director Cooper address me again. "We're only allowing you to assist on this since we are sorely undermanned at the moment and we need someone on ground level observations. You're not qualified to report on profiling, so leave that to the agents who are actually competent in the area."

I nod and we continue on to an observation area with a window overlooking what appears to have been a parking garage. The others who had come with me are now setting up computers and monitoring equipment at lightning speeds complete with visuals and audio of the place below.

Cooper points to the door leading to the lower level. "And stay out of Agent Keen's way."

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

My cane makes a noisy popping sound as I slowly descend the makeshift stairs to reach the concrete area. There's a rust-colored container a ways in front of me with windows around the sides. I freeze as I get to the bottom of the stairs.

There, in that container, was none other than the man who had helped me find the Bureau earlier that day.

His head is down, and he is focusing intently on the ground like a wolf listening for any sign of its prey. His hands rest easily by his sides despite being restrained to the arms of the chair he was sitting in, and he did not fidget in the slightest as he waited. He appeared perfectly at ease with his current situation.

I set down my things at the table in the back, turn on my laptop, and wait.

* * *

I see Red looking up and into the glass where the other agents are monitoring him about an hour after my arrival. He shifts in his seat as the the _click-clack_ of high-heels echo ominously in the space. A woman walks over to a chair in front of Red, and claps her hands together as she takes her seat. "Well, here I am."

With a shake of his head, Red's smile widens and a hint of a laugh escapes his lips."Agent Keen," he says in a smooth, low voice, "what a pleasure."

I didn't want to interrupt the discussion by my loud typing skills, so I furiously write down my observations on a notepad I had brought with me. There's a sort of melody-like quality inherent in Red's voice that I can't seem to put into words, and a kind of steely resolution apparent in Agent Keen's character that also eludes description.

These people, whoever they really are, are strong, powerful people capable of shaping their lives the way they see fit. I am drawn back to the conversation with Red's next sentence.

"I haven't been home in _years_," he says with a soft dangerousness in his voice.

They banter back and forth, neither one giving the other much of an upper hand in the conversation. I carefully jot down everything that I see, and the two of them ignore my presence completely.

"I'm going to make you famous, Lizzie," Red says in nearly a whisper, and Agent Keen gets up to leave.

* * *

He eyes her as she saunters away, and I am uncertain if she realizes just how much her hips sway as she moves away from the man they call Reddington. People are now gathering around Agent Keen in the upstairs observation room, and their eyes are off of Red as they talk to her.

Ugh, curse these voluptuous women here in the FBI and CIA. Here I was, spending hours shopping for the right power-suit and looking at countless YouTube videos when Agent Keen looks like she belongs in a Miss USA pageant with her perfectly blown out hair and glossy, pink lips. Plus, waking up constantly through the night in fits of anxious cold sweats did nothing for the already dark circles under my eyes. Damn hereditary genes always make me look tired even if I've had a full 10 hours of uninterrupted sleep. Some people, like Agent Keen, make looking beautiful effortless on their part. I sigh in defeat.

But there's no use in being jealous over something that someone else can't control, so I divert my attention back to my notes.

"I see you have great taste."

I squeak (do 28-year olds squeak? I'm hopeless). I had completely forgotten Red is still here with me, and he is now watching me closely. I look off to the side in the hopes that he is not, in fact, addressing the comment to me. His gaze does not waver.

He nods his head down, and my eyes tear away from his curled lips to focus on the maroon fedora at my desk. I scrunch up my face in befuddlement.

"I thought you...didn't you just say you'd only talk to Agent Keen?"

"I spoke with you this morning, didn't I?" Red retorts, his green eyes shining mischievously, "And if you were indeed listening, you would have also heard me say that I'm a _notorious_ liar," he adds with a low chuckle.

"Now then, if you would be so kind as to tell me _your_ name this time?"

I scoff at the question. "If Agent Keen is supposed to be a 'nobody,'" I say, quoting the woman's own words said earlier, "then I am invisible, Mr. Reddington, sir."

"Humor me, then, and sate my curiosity for curiosity's sake."

Something in his expression holds my attention for a second too long, and I dart my eyes up to the observation room to see that the agents and workers are back to monitoring Red.

"I- uh...I have to go," I respond, stacking all of my belongings into a haphazard pile of papers, a briefcase and several books.

I stumble away from my chair and my cane rattles unceremoniously onto the floor. The shackles constraining Red jingle minutely as his natural reflexes compelled him to move in my direction. A familiar pain creeps into the back of my eyes, and I grumble irritably. People see my cane and automatically assume I'm some frail thing that constantly needs help.

But a nagging feeling remains long after I leave the black site that day. For that one brief time back there, when Red had asked for my name, I felt like I was finally being treated as a typical person someone was genuinely interested in, and not a person someone wants to talks to out of curious pity.

Too bad that person happened to be one of the most dangerous people on the face of the planet.

* * *

After checking in on Aunt Lilian that evening, I go to my usual dance class just a few minutes away from the apartment I am renting. I recently discovered the place, and it's the only personal time I take for myself all week. It's more like a fitness class, really, but the doctor says that light movement like that would help my leg from getter tighter and stiffer as I age. This week has had me working on the basics of rumba, and I find myself thoroughly enjoying the experience.

As I dance, my mind drifts off to wonder about my future in DC and with the Bureau.

In the end, I am perfectly happy staying in the shadows, free from questions and comments made by strangers as they pass me in the street. I am especially happy to remain free from their burning gazes- - - even if it is the burning gaze of a man with hypnotic green eyes and an affinity for classy, 3-piece suits.


	2. Dinner and a Party

**A/N: Thanks everyone for your warm welcome into the fandom! I really loved hearing from all of you who have read the story so far. I normally don't write in 1st person or insert OC's, but this has been quite fun for me. I put the episode these interactions occur to make it a little easier to read. In most cases, these interactions occur either directly before or shortly after canon scenes I have watched to this point. Also, I believe the entire pilot takes place in the course of a day (all the characters are wearing the same clothes the whole time), but for the sake of flow, I've spread out the events in the episodes over several days. **

**Please enjoy, and thanks for reading and reviewing as always!**

**Chapter songs: "Come Fly With Me" by Frank Sinatra, "Ain't That A Kick in the Head" by Dean Martin, "This Night" by Black Lab**

**Note: _je ne sais quoi_= something that cannot be adequately described or expressed**

* * *

**Episode 1: Pilot (con't)**

* * *

The next day, I find a memo taped to my desk back in the DC field office of the FBI. "Meet the intelligence squad assigned to the Blacklist cases, and help them to set up surveillance in Reddington's room."

I run the assignment by my superior, and he signs off on it, mumbling something about how I am a "glorified coffee girl."

By the time I reach the doors of the hotel establishment with a set of equipment the intelligence team will need, I'm still fuming that I am nothing more than a grunt worker. I receive a message from the head of the intelligence department telling me that it will be another hour or two before everyone is assembled and ready to set up the monitoring devices, and I am at a loss as to what to do with my extra time.

The glare of dazzling chandelier lights hurts my eyes as I walk inside the building, and I am distracted by the gorgeous decorations inside. This is no mere hotel, but more along the lines of a collection penthouse suites that are only accessible to the rich and famous. I readjust my bag on my shoulder and listen as my cane echoes alongside every step that I take on these marble floors.

I ride an elevator to the third floor and I find myself now walking on plush carpeting with a lush, floral design. There's a hotel worker dressed in slacks, long sleeves and a vest, and there's a food cart with a variety of covered plates. He speaks to me when I stop in front of him.

"Excuse me, but I was told that only FBI was to enter Mr. Reddington's room until the staff have been cleared of background checks," the man informs me with a nod.

I show him my badge, and the man gestures to the food with a hopeful look on his face.

_Great, now I'm demoted to food runner_.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

I knock softly on the door and hear a slight muffled sound coming from the other end.

Red's melodic voice rings out to me, and I find my pulse quickening. "Yes?"

I clear my throat and hope that my voice sounds confident. "FBI, Mr. Reddington, may I come in?"

I roll my eyes internally at what I've just said. I_ should just demand that I come in, not ask like he's doing me a favor._

The door opens slowly, and my stomach does the tiniest backflip at the smile he gives me.

"Ah, lovely to see you again- - -" he pauses as his eyes travel to my ID badge that's conveniently located on my chest, "- - -Eleanor."

I wave a hand in front of my face and shake my head. "Call me Elli," I say nonchalantly before realizing how un-professional I must sound.

Red takes the food cart from me, and leads me inside the immaculate hotel room. I can't help but to ogle at the gold finishes, mahogany wood, and porcelain bowls and statues that decorate the area. There's a spacious living quarter that opens into a full dining room complete with masterful works of art that adorn the walls. I glance into a side room, and I see an enormous four-poster bed that looks sinfully inviting. I let out a curious "humph" that causes Red to raise an eyebrow at me.

"What?"

I point to the bedroom. "I only sleep with blankets too, no comforter," I say, amusement getting a hold on me so that I continue to ramble on, "You'd think I hoard blankets if you could see my linen closet in my apartment. I have sets of blankets for every season, and my aunt, she- - -"

My voice fades, and I fall quiet when I see he is watching me intently.

"That's the first genuine smile I have seen on you."

Red shifts his weight onto his right leg and looks down at me for a moment longer before speaking again. "Can I interest you in sharing a meal with me," he says, voice smooth and slow. "I have an absolutely spectacular bottle of wine on reserve here that's just begging to be opened."

I feel my ears burn as he waits for me to say something. "I think I'll pass on the wine, Mr. Reddington, but thank you. Perhaps another time."

My stomach rumbles, its angry churning clearly signaling its displeasure at being neglected for breakfast and now almost lunch. Red's stifled laugh sends the color to my cheeks, and I hold my stomach in a feeble attempt to quiet the un-ladylike sounds erupting from me. Red walks to the door and whispers something in the ear of the hotel worker I had just met, and the man dashes off in the opposite direction.

I hurriedly put down my bag and open it to retrieve the equipment I am to set up on this side of the room.

"No cameras yet," Red complains, " spy cameras are _so _FBI and dull."

My fingers are busy trying to untangle a particularly unmanageable set of cables I am to give to the intelligence team later that day. "Oh you think so? Given the right circumstances, I think you can have quite a bit of fun with them."

My hands freeze in place as the comment hangs in the air like a bad joke.

Dear,_ sweet, baby Jesus, did I just...I hope he doesn't think I just made some kind of kinky sex joke. God, he's staring at me again..._

"I didn't...I mean, I didn't mean it in a um, in a _weird _way or anything," I mutter, too embarrassed to bring myself to look into the man's face. "Just, ya know... cameras in general...are fun and all."

Red makes his way back to the front of the suite and returns with an identical food cart which he wheels over to the dining room.

When he finally does speak, I hear a hint of playfulness in his voice. "It's nice to finally, truly make your acquaintance, Elli."

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

_I shouldn't be doing this. This has to be some sort of breech of ethics, _I think to myself suddenly as Red proceeds to place all of the food onto a white place-cloth that covers half of the table.

But before I have a chance to change my mind, Red takes my cane from me to set it off to the side. He then pulls out a chair for me to sit and pushes me closer to the table. _Heh, and here I was thinking chivalry is dead_, I ponder as Red's steps sound to be going into another part of the suite.

I hear buttons chirping, and in a moment later, the sounds of big band music fills the air. I find myself closing my eyes as a smile crosses my lips.

_"Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away," _I mouth soundlessly along with the song.

I feel Red's presence behind me when he speaks. "While it doesn't surprise me that you have an appreciation for music, it is curious that a woman your age would be lip-singing to Sinatra. But perhaps a love of Sinatra and others like him goes hand in hand with your love of hats," he says as he nods to the gray, wide-rimmed, wool hat on my head. I grin sheepishly in return.

"It makes me wonder what else don't I know about you."

I place a white cloth napkin over my lap. "There's a lot about me you don't know, Mr. Reddington."

He laughs heartily at the comment as he takes a seat next to me to start the meal.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

"I hear this is only temporary," I say after gulping down the best freshly squeezed lemonade I've ever had in my life. "That after this job, you're going back into that cell in the Post Office."

"Everything's temporary if I want it to be, and that includes staying in a cell," he replies as he cuts into a piece of medium-rare steak. "I'll be out in less than 48 hours."

"I don't doubt it, Mr. Reddington," I say, "and while I have thoroughly enjoyed the food, I'm afraid I have a job to complete."

I get up and walk over to my bag to pull out a small, wireless web-camera. The rest of the intelligence team as well as Agent Keen are no doubt on the floor above us setting up their end of the monitoring equipment by now.

I see Red out of the corner of my vision, folding the white tablecloth underneath his plate so that it looks like only one person had been served.

I return to fiddling with the camera. I had been told to hold down a button in the back to sync the device to the FBI's laptops, and when the camera flashes a green light three times, I know it is successfully relaying a picture to the other agents. Red sighs and resumes eating as if nothing at all had happened.

I stand just out of the camera's view and mouth the word "Sorry" before I gather my things to exit the room while wheeling the cart in front of me.

Dean Martin's "Ain't That A Kick in the Head" can be heard in the room just as I shut the door.

_Sorry?_ I think to myself as I walk down the hallway slowly, _What am I sorry for, exactly?_

* * *

I stop by Agent Keen's office just before I go home.

"Come in," a tired sounding voice says.

"I've got those background reports you asked for," I say as I set the folder down on her desk. She doesn't look up at me from her computer screen, and I take a quick look around her desk to see a photo of her smiling with a man wearing glasses and a cardigan. "That's a really nice picture, is he your boyfriend?"

"My husband, Tom," she replies as she continues to click repeatedly on her computer mouse, "I'm sorry to cut the water-cooler chat short, but I've got a lot of work to do so- - -"

A nervous laughter escapes me and I turn to walk toward the door. "Right, right, of course, so sorry to have taken up your time."

I hear my name being called just as I am about to leave. "Eleanor?"

Agent Keen is now looking at me, her fingers softly stroking the inside of her hand where I see she has an unusual scar. "Uh, thanks for your help with the reports."

I grin and she smiles back at me. "Anytime."

* * *

The following day brings its own challenges in the form of an early morning call.

"Simon, we need you to cover for Agent Keen on Reddington's observations today," Assistant Director Cooper's voice echoes from the phone's speakers. "She's taking a day off due to personal reasons."

"I heard her husband got attacked last night," I say, recalling what Whitney, my office-mate, had texted me earlier (she's the office gossip, needless to say). "Is he okay?"

Cooper proceeds to explain that while her husband is fine, he would need a few days to recover in the DC General Hospital.

I have a few hours until I have to report to the job, so I make two plates of toast and hot chocolate, and spend the time eating in bed with Aunt Lilian. She's in good spirits this morning, so I took the opportunity to catch up with her.

My phone beeps just when we are finishing, and when I check my phone I see I have an incoming text from a number I don't recognize.

_Care for a cup of tea with me before you have to spend the rest of the day watching me?_

_I'll be in my room._

_~Red_

"Who's the lucky lad?"

I fumble with my phone and drop it onto the floor because of her odd remark. Aunt Lilian hadn't laughed that hard in weeks.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

Stepping out of the elevator on Red's floor, I see Agent Keen storm out of his room, and I am surprised to see her. She brushes past me in her hurry to catch the elevator door. My eyes widen when I notice her hands are covered in blood.

My breath hitches in my chest as I make my way as quickly as possible to Red's room.

I gasp as I see him clutching the side of his neck with blood oozing between his fingertips.

"Sorry, Elli," he whispers hoarsely, his eyes fluttering as he struggles to keep them open, "Looks like we'll have to have tea some other time."

I rush to his side. "Holy shit, she stabbed you in the neck _with a pen_?!" I exclaim as my cane falls to the floor as I drop to my knees in front of him. Without thinking, I check his body for other injuries, but I seem more panicked at the situation than Red.

"Pardon my French, Mr. Reddington," I say in an attempt to quiet my nerves as I try applying more pressure to the wound to keep him from bleeding out. "Ugh, ruined your nice shirt, too, what a shame."

I hear what sounds like a strained chuckle just before he passes out in front of me.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

I bring Red to the hospital, and they are able to stitch him back up with ease; but he remains unconscious for another thirty minutes afterwards.

I am the first person he sees when he does open his eyes.

"You didn't have to stay," Red says, his voice raw and scratchy sounding.

"I had some business to attend to in the hospital anyways, so it was really no trouble at all," I reply as I hand him a cup of water.

I quickly reprimand myself when Red looks at me curiously. I assume he is wondering what "business" I have at the hospital, but I am not ready to let him in on something so close to my personal life. Aunt Lilian and everything that happened...before. I don't want him to know any of it.

At least not now.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

I open the paper a few days later and see an article about how the FBI foiled a terrorist plot to blow up the DC Zoo.

_Looks like Red and Agent Keen patched things up just in time._

* * *

**Episode 2: The Freelancer (No. 145)**

_"Where's that woman with the mushroom puffs?"_

* * *

Just as he predicted, Red became a somewhat free man in the days to come. I thought I was done with the Post Office assignments, but as luck would have it (or by Red's own request, I never did find out), I was asked to pick up Red's personal body guards at a pre-specified location. I had my phone fully charged this time, so thanks to the GPS on my phone, I had no problem locating the property where Red used his own private plane to fly his people in. Neither one of them spoke a word the entire drive back to base, and I was beginning to wonder if they were both mutes. I was accompanied by a convoy of agents from both the CIA and the FBI just in case things were to turn sour. But everything went according to plan, and now I find myself shutting off the car and stepping out into the parking garage at the Post Office.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

When they get out of the car, Red is already walking towards them. He embraces Dembe, the tall, intimidating freedom fighter from South Sudan, and kisses him on both cheeks. He then turns to the other half of his body guards, a Vietnamese woman named Luli Zeng.

"Luli, my dear!" He croons.  
"Raymond," she says with a sly smile.

I look away, surprised at the sheer irritation I feel when the woman and Red exchange an intimate kiss. My heart drops, but I try to ignore it. After all, nothing has really happened between Red and I, so why should I feel irritated at all?

I snap myself back to the group's present conversation, and I see that the CIA agent, Meera Malik, is exchanging words with Red.

"Oh yeah, and what does the CIA look like?" She says with a raised brow.

"Beautiful, but treacherous," he retorts with ease.

"We'll have to see about that, won't we?"

He shakes his head with a wide grin. "This is going to be a gas!"

I watch as he continues to laugh jovially while making his way out of the garage, his entourage not far behind him. He looks in my direction smugly and brings a hand to grace the tip of his hat.

I scowl and wonder what what the heck just happened. _Right_...I_ knew he couldn't be interested in me in that way when he is surrounded by women like Luli, Malik, and even Keen._

I have little time to process everything that's happened in this strange day because Assistant Director Cooper pulls me aside to discuss the Freelancer case after having a meeting with Red and Agent Keen.

"Your background report and resume indicates that you'd like to try your hand at field work?"

I eye Cooper warily. "Yes, I did put that in my resume since I have gone through basic training for it."

"Good. We need an extra pair of eyes to work the entrance at the event where we think the assassination will occur. I've already called ahead, and they've agreed to place you as the hostess at the door for the evening. Can you spare a few hours away from your...your- - -" he stops speaking and gestures to my cane instead.

I stare blankly back at him. I can't believe it, an opportunity to go into the field? In all my years, I assumed it would never happen to someone like me. Heck, I thought it would be a miracle if I even got _hired_ by the FBI at all. I wasn't about to let my stupid condition get in the way of the one thing I wanted to do at least once before I die.

"Yes, I can, and I'll be there tonight."

He shakes my hand firmly. "It's a black tie affair, and since you're the hostess, I expect you to dress appropriately."

My smile falters. "Yes, Sir."

_Oh, crap._

* * *

Agent Keen surveys the room in a grid-like fashion, taking in the vast array of people all gathered in the main hall area. Red stands next to her, his sharp eyes missing no one as they pass in front of them.

"Your 7 o' clock?"

Red waits a while before answering her. "No," he says before looking off into the crowd in earnest."Where's that woman with the mushroom puffs?"

He makes a beeline across the room.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

The evening is an elaborate affair, but I notice no guest acting suspiciously at the start of the event. With all of the guests accounted for, I set off to mingle with the crowd by carrying a tray of mushroom puffs to serve to them throughout the night. I see Agent Keen speaking in hushed tones with Red, and I am grateful that I decided to take the dress code seriously. My hair is pinned back in a sleek bun and I'm wearing a floor length dress that is black at the top and fades to a deep emerald towards the bottom. It has black laced, long sleeves and a high neck-line, but the back dips devilishly low while hugging the curves of my body nicely.

Red spots me, says something to Agent Keen, and heads my way, never taking his eyes off of me.

He soon stands in front of me, takes a mushroom puff, and pops it in his mouth. "Did my harmless display with Luli amuse you today? Or perhaps you feel more than a little insulted?"

I'm taken aback by the comment, and the earlier events of the day come flooding back.

"She's your, your- - -" I stutter as I feel an embarrassed heat rising from my neck to color my ears and cheeks. "She's _with _you...I get it. Again, why would what I think matter to you?"

"Nothing personal, Elli," Red replies quickly, "She had to get some information to me, and that was the only way to do it. It was all very Judas Iscariot of her."

I shift my fingers underneath the large tray to keep it balanced and refuse to reply.

"You're doing yourself a disservice by keeping your emotions bottled up," Red adds almost as an afterthought, "what things you must be hiding deep down in your secret heart?"

"I don't want to hurt again," I whisper before I can stop myself.

Licking the inside of his mouth, his look indicates to me that he had heard my comment. I avert my eyes to scan the crowd once more, praying for the moment to pass.

"An excellent choice of hat color today, the navy cloche," Red says suddenly in a cheerful voice, "although you seem more of a brilliant autumn to me- - -"

"Take another mushroom, Mr. Reddington," I say softly to interrupt him before he speaks further, "the waiter behind me gives me a bad feeling."

He raises an eyebrow at me because my lips didn't move, and I continue to smile at him sweetly while I present the food tray to him. "He's been watching the agents all night."

_Hah, and they said I was weird for taking those voice acting classes in college...looks like that unit on ventriloquist techniques is going to serve me quite well in this job._

I see Red's face harden instantly, and I get a chill down my spine at the darkness that now fills his eyes.

He addresses me in his usual tone of voice, but his expression remains sinister. "Things are about to get...hectic in three minutes. Find the exit now while you can."

Just as I am about to pass him to head towards the door, I feel his hand grab my arm lightly.

His eyes flash an emotion I cannot discern. "You look stunning, by the way."

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

That night I sat in my small office to type up the official report for the evening with a slight swelling of pride: the creepy waiter I had pointed out to Red had led them to the real culprit, Floriana Campos. She was the human rights activist the FBI was supposed to protect from being assassinated, but it turned out she was a complete fraud. I smile despite the odd nature of the story- - -Red most likely had targeted her all along from the beginning.

Or perhaps, if I truly thought about it, I would have realized that I hadn't stopped smiling since Red complimented me that evening.

_Thank you, Aunt Lilian, for having impeccable taste in dresses. _

* * *

Another day had me awake early and getting ready to take my aunt into the city for a doctor's appointment. The day started poorly with my aunt vomiting and weak. After the appointment that felt like it would never end, I find myself in my apartment with Aunt Lilian sleeping in her room.

I inhale deeply as the silence begins to press in around me. I stand in the living room, my feet rocking slightly back and forth against the wooden floor beneath me. I inhale again, but the silence remains, threatening to suffocate me.

_"The tumor's come back, Ms. Simon," _the doctor's cold voice rings in my mind_, "We'll have to operate on her, but I am positive we will get it all this time around."_

I need to get out of here.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

Closing the door behind me, I step outside where a chilled, misty rain stings my face. Tucking my mp3 player into my dress pocket, I make my way stiffly down a few streets until a reach the large public park in the area. I sit down on a bench, put my large headphones over my ears and close my eyes.

My bad leg is acting up again, and I rub it absently with my hand. I really should have turned Cooper down when he had asked me to go undercover at the event the other night.

A thought passes my mind's consciousness in an instant. But,_ Red sure did look exceptional in a suit._

In one swift movement, my headphones are swiped off of my head. I jump in my seat, startled by the sudden movement. I turn to see Red listening to my music as he stands behind me. I do an internal face palm, and try to keep my facial expressions to a minimum. Of course he would happen to stumble upon one of the creepiest songs on my playlist:

"_There are things, I have done. There's a place, I have gone. There's a beast, And I let it run. Now it's runnin' my way._"

He comes around the bench and sits down beside me. "Are you frightened of me, Elli? That saddens me."

My mind chooses to focus on all of our interactions over the past few days, and I shake my head adamantly as my old insecurities about people crop up again.

"Look, Mr. Reddington, I don't need your sympathy or your pity, so if you would please just- - -"

"Sympathy? Is that why you think I talk to you..._sympathy_? My dear, naive girl- - -" he says with a laugh "- - -I find you _intriguing_."

"But that doesn't make any sense," I retort, my face blushing despite my best efforts to calm my emotions. "You are so intertwined with Agent Keen- - -making sure no harm comes to her, killing so that she stays safe, you are never far from her side."

"I shine the light on those who need it to thrive, Elli, much like our Lizzie. By focusing the spotlight on them, I keep others I deem worthy of my interest hidden away in the shadows. It's all good business, when it comes down to it. Lizzie is, and will always be, a priority for me."

I looked down at my flats, but I still feel him staring at me for one reason or another.

"But you...you have your own certain _je ne sais quoi _as it were. You are quite familiar with the phrase, are you not- - -considering where you are originally from, Ms. _Simon_," he adds, pronouncing my name with the French flare of "See-Mawh" instead of the "Simon" like in the children's game "Simon Says".

"How could you possibly know that, Mr. Reddington?"

"My dear," he says with a shake of his head and an enigmatic grin, "how could I _not_ recognize your origins? I do business in the South with the large ports there in Houston and New Orleans," he tilts his head to the side, his lips parted in a pause as he studies me. "You're not from New Orleans, though, are you? Perhaps more to the west of the city where there are some old French families, yes?"

His smile widens minutely at the look of shock and disbelief plastered upon my face. I see him undoing the loose knot that holds his scarf together around his neck.

"Besides," he continues while wrapping his scarf around me gingerly. "the fact that you have no clue on how to layer yourself for the cold makes it obvious that you aren't from around here."

I bite my lip as I smother my pleas of protest. Red then cups my hands in his and places his lips to my numbingly cold fingers and blows gently, sending a quiet warmth through me. My heart pounds madly in my chest, but I remain still.

"You really must let me take you to see a tailor friend of mine. She'd do _wonders_ for a cute, little petite figure like yours."

I bite my tongue so I don't sigh outwardly at him. _Cute...great._

I stop my own thinking abruptly. _No, I can't possibly feel these flutterings in the pit of my stomach, and I refuse to acknowledge the effect his smile has on me._

And yet, I find myself out of breath as he is dangerously close to my face when he continues. "My question to you is, why? Why would a someone such as yourself transplant her entire immediate family all the way up here? The only answers I could ever come up with for questions like these are money or health, or a lack thereof."

My heart stirs at the look in his eyes, but my head quickly assures me that I am experiencing nothing more than a fool's dream.


	3. Game of Hats

**A/N: Thanks again to everyone who has been following this story. It was only supposed to be three chapters, but as you can see, it will have to be a bit longer. xD**

**I thought about having a scary-type scene since I am writing through the Stewmaker episode, but since that episode it more about Lizzie and Red's relationship, I decided to steer away from that.**

**Also, although the bulk of the story is in 1st person POV, I do have some pieces of the chapter that occur just before some scenes start in the show just to give a little extra tie-in to the storyline.**

**Lots of things happening in this chapter, and parts of it were very difficult for me to get through, but I hope you enjoy! Part 1 is a lighter chapter while Part 2 gets into the meaty, darker aspects of the story.**

* * *

**Episode 3: Wujing (No. 84)**

_"Rodrick, both."_

* * *

I am lying in bed, and my mind drifts back to my interaction with Red that day. I turn over on my side to look at the scarf he had wrapped around me which was now resting near my bedside table; and I can feel the tingling of my fingers as his breath passes over them in a phantom memory.

_Surely, he was just being nice_, my brain rationalizes as I reach out to feel the exquisite cloth between my fingertips.

I roll over again to look up at the ceiling, a secret smile on my face as I close my eyes in the darkness.

Tomorrow I would see Red again- - -and I would be lying to myself if I said that I wasn't looking forward to it.

_Man, have I got it bad..._

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

The following day, I catch Red just as he is about to walk into the Post Office.

"Mr. Reddington," I call to him, trying to jog somewhat to catch him.

He's wearing a cream-colored suit and a matching hat this morning, and it takes my breath away at how green his eyes look when dressed in those colors. He turns and stops mid-walk to wait for me.

I pause to collect myself before I speak to him. "I have your scarf from the other day," I say as I open my large bag to take out the article of clothing.

He chuckles softly when I try handing it to him. "It's yours, consider it a gift."

My hand lowers, and my eyes look down at the scarf as a warm feeling wells up inside of me.

His voice is contemplative. "You have an aversion to cashmere?"

I shake my head and swallow several times to ward off the wetness behind my eyes. "No, it's just," I begin, feeling Red's piercing gaze on me as I place my fingers on the scarf, reveling in its softness, "I don't remember the last time someone gave me a gift."

He opens his mouth as if to say something more, but closes it just as quickly.

My voice comes out much more breathily than I would have hoped when I look up at him. "Thank you."

He grins in an amused, one-sided smile, and everything around me, all the din and distractions of life here, seems to mute itself into a comfortable silence as I look into this man's face. His expression shifts into the one I saw that night I worked at the event for the Freelancer case.

And like before, the look passes in an instant before I have a chance to capture its meaning.

* * *

A week passes by me unnoticed due to how busy I had become with taking care of Aunt Lilian and dealing with the nurses while reporting to my usual job every day. I look at my assignments day after day, and my heart drops a little each time- - -I am to report to the main FBI headquarters to spend my days producing intelligence reports on Japan and China. This means no Post Office, no black-site observations.

No Red.

When I casually bring the subject of Agent Keen and Red to my office-mate, she rolls her eyes and makes an obnoxious comment about how Keen is "sleeping her way to the top."

I dismiss her dribble as mere jealousy, and continue to drag myself through my research. Yes, I am well aware of Agent Keen's involvement with Red, and I know that nothing I could say or do could change that. He needs her as much as she needs him, and I am not one to stand in the way of something one may possibly call fate. But, just because they are close doesn't mean they are close in _that_ way.

At least that's what I keep telling myself.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

After the eighth day of doing absolutely nothing except going to work and returning home (and going to my weekly dance class,) I decide to take a stroll around the city's shops to see what they have to offer.

The constant tapping of my cane becomes a sound I have long since grown accustomed to, and in a strange way, the repetitive noise is comforting. The weather's biting cold still permeates the air around me, stinging my lungs with each inhale, but at least the sun is out at the moment. A window display catches my attention, and I look to see that the entire store sells nothing but hats.

I waste no time walking inside.

"Welcome," an older man addresses me as soon as I enter. "A present for a father, a brother, or perhaps a lover?"

I whistle under my breath at the vast array of hats in every size, shape and color. "It's for a man that I know who's been very kind to me. I've just moved here to the city, and it's so hard to meet new people," I say softly, realizing that what I am saying is true only after I say it. "He likes to wear fedoras with his suits, so I thought he might like something from here. Although, now that I think about it, he may have this many hats already in his possession."

The man folds his hands together as he looks at me properly. "You must be talking about Raymond Reddington," he says with a wink in my direction.

A grin comes easily to me at the sound of his name. "Yes, that's him," I reply as the man extends his hand for me to take it in a handshake.

"I'm Rodrick," he continues, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles, "And Raymond is a dear, dear friend of mine."

"What a small world," I reply in surprise.

Rodrick comes out from behind the counter and talks with me as I shop, telling me tidbits about Red's favorite style of hat and suggesting a few that he thinks would compliment his wardrobe. I finally select a dark blue fedora with a steel-grey silk embellishment, pay Rodrick, and exit his store with a large bag in tow.

* * *

I put the bag in the crook of my arm and walk towards the park to spend the rest of the afternoon there with a book I had recently borrowed from Whitney. But just when I am about to find a comfortable bench to sit down, I see a woman I know reading a newspaper.

"Luli," I say, waving at the woman while trying to balance my bags and my cane at the same time. She looks up abruptly when she hears her name, and her expression remains unreadable when I reach her. We stand there, side by side, in an awkward silence I can feel.

_Compliments...everyone likes them...even bodyguards..._

I inhale deeply. "I like your jacket, where did you get it?"

"A Christmas present," Luli responds, her eyes scanning over the newspaper she is reading in a practiced movement.

"Ah, does your family do a lot for the holidays then?"

The woman puts the newspaper down and stares at me for a moment before responding in a flat voice. "Are you trying to befriend me?"

I look her squarely in the face, determined to work on my confidence in dealing with the strong, assertive people that seem to be the norm here in DC. "Yes. Yes I am."

Her face breaks into a smile as she laughs quietly. "Looks like Raymond was right about you...you're incredibly adorable."

My face turns about 5 shades of red as I can't decide whether I am embarrassed that Luli is flirting with me, or happy that Red thinks I'm cute...again.

She nods her head at something behind me, and I turn to see Red sitting at a small table as he peers over a game of chess. I go over to him, and his face splits into a grin when he sees me.

"There's a man who has been tracking me down for some time now, and I'm positive he will find me before the day's over." He gestures with a sweep of his hand at the game splayed out on the table. "Do you play?"

I take a seat opposite of Red and set my bags down. "No, not at all, but I've always wanted to learn."

Red leans over and rearranges the pieces back to their original positions, and tells me to watch as he plays. I hold back a chuckle when I notice that not only would the hat I just bought from Rodrick match his dark ensemble, but today happens to be the only time I have ever seen Red _without_ a hat. Rodrick must've known something I didn't when I made my purchase earlier. I'll have to thank him properly later.

"Who's out looking for you, Mr. Reddington?"

He moves a piece he calls a "pawn" across the board. "A very important Chinese man many believe to be a myth, when in fact, he's a major player in underground assassinations of agents from around the globe."

"Oh, Wujing!" I exclaim a little too happily.

"Good girl, you know your criminals," he says in his song-like voice and a raised brow.

"Yeah, I've been working on that slime-ball for years," I say excitedly as I practically bounce in my seat. "Finally managed to connect him to the killings of CIA agents Michael Alvarado, Kevin Wyatt, and Bryce Jensen. And while I'm not entirely certain, I believe he's behind an attack that happened yesterday, as a matter of fact."

His face returns to its solemn state, and he regards me from behind his sunglasses. "And have you reported your findings yet?"

"Not officially," I say, my shoulders slumping at the confession. "No one really believed me when I'd bring it up. They said they were all mutually exclusive, gang-related killings."

Red looks down at the chess board and moves one of the pawns from the other side. "Give me the information, I'll make sure Lizzie uses it."

He licks his lips as he looks down at the chessboard again. "I knew there was more to you than just a stunning face and killer hips."

If my cheeks had been red before with Luli's flirtations, now my face is on a whole new level of crimson that Crayola should name a new color after it.

"Out for a little midday shopping?" Red adds in an upbeat tone suddenly.

I have no time to react gracefully and instead stutter out my response. "Oh um...I..."

I stop and suddenly think how weird I must look for having bought him something. Nevertheless I pick up the box in the bag I had been carrying and set it in front of him.

"I understand if you don't like it, but um, I saw this in a shop, and I thought about you."

His eyes are downcast, and he barely moves as he examines the box for several minutes.

I wring my hands on my jeans as I wait for him to react. If_ he sits there in silence any longer, I think I'll just drown myself in this cold sweat I'm breaking out in..._

I rub the back of my neck as I giggle- - - a nervous habit I loathe. "Ya' know, for the lovely scarf you gave me."

He finally stirs, pulling at the black ribbon that is keeping the box closed. He then proceeds to fold it neatly and set it aside before turning his attention to the gift in question. He takes off his sunglasses, and his brow is furrowed as he lifts the lid to reveal the fedora. His fingers run slowly over it almost in a reverent way. He picks it up out of the box, and I feel my heart pounding as he examines it further.

He then puts the hat on, tugging at the rim until it fits to his liking.

He smiles widely for a moment before the look softens in my direction. "Seems like today was a good day to forget my hat."

He leans back in his chair and laces his fingers together as he looks at me. As for me, I couldn't be happier that he liked what I bought, and I continue to smile unabashed.

"If you're looking for some real fun, might I suggest the boutiques and shops in Lisbon? I'm expected to be there by the week's end, and traveling is much more pleasurable with an agreeable companion, don't you think?"

My heart leaps into my throat at the sound of his invitation. I want more than anything to say yes, to throw caution to the wind to see where it carries me. If I went to Lisbon, I would tell him how I feel giddy every time he looks my way, and I would tell him how his laughter drives me a little bit wild. There are so many things I would do if I had the courage for once in my life to show people how I truly feel.

I look down at my folded hands, however, and sigh because I have no right to think such outlandish things. I have Aunt Lilian to think of as well as my job. I can't afford to go trotting across the globe with all of the medical bills I have yet to pay off.

My smile is sad, but I hope against hope that Red doesn't notice anything amiss. "I have to go, Mr. Reddington, but I wish you and Agent Keen good luck with Wujing. Safe travels, too."

His eyes follow me as I pack up my things. "Just out of curiosity, will you ever feel comfortable to at least call me Red? For Christ's sake, it's not like you're my lawyer or anything."

I get up from my chair while trying to still appear pleasant. "Goodbye, Mr. Reddington."

_I guess this is how the Cowardly Lion must have felt in the Wizard of Oz._

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

I slowly continue on my way home, but Luli waves me over from where she stands watching Red from afar.

"Ever had pho before?"

I shake my head no.

Luli folds down the newspaper to read another section (or make it look like she is, anyway).

"I'll pick you up around 6," she says simply.

I look back to Red, and I see an older man with peppered-grey hair approaching him.

"It's my night off," she continues in response to where I am looking. "Are you in?"

I refocus my attention on Luli and smile.

"Sure, sounds like a plan."

_Looks like I'll be skipping dance class tonight...although I'm sure Aunt Lilian will be excited to hear I'm actually going out with another human being..._

* * *

**Wujing: Red at the hat shop**

* * *

"Rodrick, old friend, how are you?" Red says as he embraces the owner of the store. "I've come to peruse your wares. It seems I've locked myself into a bit of a gift exchange with a particularly interesting individual. Reminds me of the time I wound up in Papua New Guinea after a shipwreck. For _weeks_ they thought I was the offspring of a mythical ancestor they worship, and proceeded to shower me with more jewelry than the Queen of England on Mardi Gras in New Orleans. I still have a little shack over there in case the urge to go back should ever overtake me."

Red shakes his head with a chuckle, and Rodrick smiles at his friend.

"A gift for a woman then, I see."

Red makes a clicking noise with his tongue at the comment. "She's bright, but the poor girl has no clue how to play up her God-given attributes. And while usually I find that to be quite dull in a person, on her, it's rather endearing."

"This...interesting woman," Rodrick says while placing a few hats out in the display window, "She wouldn't happen to have a cane with her, would she?"

"You've met her?"

"My friend, when I mentioned your name, her eyes lit up as bright as the stars in the night sky."

Red puts on a black fedora, running his hands along the stitching to check for quality. He turns to Rodrick to reply, but just then, the bell at the front of the shop jingles, and Red is caught slightly off guard seeing Agent Keen walking briskly in his direction. She wasn't supposed to meet him for another half hour.

"An opportunity has come our way," he says smoothly as he takes off the hat, "Yesterday, the Chinese killed a CIA agent in Shanghai."

He explains to her their plans for the next name on the Blacklist, and informs her of her cover name and background story for the mission. She somewhat agrees to go along with his plans, and with that settled, Red's mind wanders to other subjects.

"If we play our cards right, I can still make Lisbon by breakfast," he says happily before turning to his friend who was now standing behind the counter.

He points to two hats that are set out on the countertop. "Rodrick, both."


	4. Numb

**Episode 4: The Stewmaker**

* * *

Agent Keen and Red were on one case after the other with little down time in between. A small piece of me felt the tiniest amount of jealousy at Agent Keen's and Red's developing relationship, but those immature emotions were quickly squelched.

The only small happiness I found during this time was the fact that my landlady decided to sell me the brownstone I am renting for a drastically reduced price once I had an approval for a loan. Maybe she felt sorry for me, or maybe she wanted to get out of the rental business. In any case, the thought of having my own place made me very hopeful for my future here.

I wake up this morning at 3AM and again at 5AM, staring at my alarm clock until I can no longer stand being in bed. I shuffle around the small apartment while mentally going over a checklist in my head of all the things I need to pack in an overnight bag. It's still too early to call into work, but my boss is already aware that I needed to take a long weekend starting today.

I wipe my eyes as I make my way lazily to the kitchen intent upon making myself an exceptionally large pot of coffee. I grab the carton of eggs and turn on the flame to heat a pan I have already sitting on the stove. I hit the egg on the side to crack it, but instead, I drop the partially crushed egg into the pan. My hands are trembling, and I force air in and out of me to calm myself.

Dumping the egg and shell disaster into the trash, I try cracking another egg into the pan. The second time's the charm, but I hope I am able to keep some food down.

Perhaps coffee would be a bad idea.

_It's just a surgery...one that they need to do,_ I tell myself as I return to my room after eating to dress for the long day ahead. _I'm sure they've done brain surgeries so often at that hospital that the surgeons can do it in their sleep.__  
_

I let Aunt Lilian sleep until late in the morning, and then help her to get dressed. We then load ourselves into a rental car to head to the hospital. I wrap the scarf Red gave me around my neck, and my nerves calm somewhat. I have a feeling I would need it while I wait for a five-hour operation to be over.

* * *

I snap awake and look at the clock in the waiting room. _Only s__even o' clock at night?_ I lament as I get up to stretch my legs.

The doctors had said that the surgery would still be another hour, so I use this time to go to the restroom to freshen up. Dragging my eyes up to look into the mirror, I sigh hopelessly as I take out a chapstick to moisturize my cracked lips. _  
_

Time crawls onward as I sit hunched over in my seat until a surgeon taps me lightly on the shoulder. The operation's been a success, he informs me, and my aunt is now awake and requesting orange juice as well as my presence.

Her head is wrapped in white bandages and her eyes look a bit glassy, but Aunt Lilian is sitting up in bed when I come in. Needles, bags, and tubes jut out of her, and the beeping on the monitors near her bed seem to reverberate off of the walls.

My feet feel like they are made of lead as I walk over to her bedside, and my mind blanks as to what to say. All I can do is take her hand in mine, but my eyes widen as I notice the IV there.

It has to be the biggest needle I have ever seen, and it's sticking right into her hand. She asks me if I am going to spend the night at the hospital in her wispy, soft-spoken voice. I hear myself answering yes, but I remain fixated on the huge needle as she moves. My head begins to swim.

"I...I'm amazed you even have the strength to talk to me, Aunt Lil," I whisper as I squeeze her hand gently.

She speaks with me for a little longer before she stops abruptly.

"Who's that in the doorway, Sweetie?" She then asks, her eyes looking behind me.

I see a tall shadow of a man standing just outside of the doorway, and I do not need to see him in the light to know who the shadow belongs to. I close the door partially behind me as I look up at him.

"Mr. Reddington, what are you doing here?"

He looks down at me with softened eyes. "You have no idea how it makes me feel to see you right now, Elli."

I am surprised at the quiet, raw quality in his usually pleasant voice. "Is everything all right?"

"I'm fine...just a monster coming to check on Lizzie," he says. I see he is not standing up as straight as he normally does, his face is drawn, and his eyes are bloodshot. He nods his head in acknowledgement. "It's been a very long day with a certain Stewmaker in town."

I cock my head to the side as I try to get a better look at him. Is he hurt? Is he here at the hospital because he needs medical care as well? My head continues to pace around in circles as my mind goes from thoughts of Red to Aunt Lilian in the room behind me. I notice he's looking at me, and I am befuddled at his wide eyes that are now searching my face for something.

My thoughts slow to a trickle as I gaze at the man standing before me. This was not the cool, calm man who had convinced everyone, including himself, that he needs no one in his life. Something is different- - -something is changed.

"You're no monster, Mr. Reddington."

I see him reaching up as if to touch my face, but his hand drops back to his side.

His voice is gentle and warm, however, when he addresses me."You're pale. What's happened?"

I'm breathless when I answer, the pounding in my head getting worse and worse. "My aunt...well, more like my mother..." my voice fades and I am unsure of how much to actually tell the man watching me with a discerning stare. "She has a brain tumor, and they just operated on h-her. It's been pretty r-rough- - -"

Crap, my voice is cracking and I feel my throat burning as it becomes harder for me to speak.

There is a long pause that seems to drag on for eternity while I try desperately to control my racing heart. I feel so stupid- - -Red and the other agents risk their lives every day to protect the city and the country from those with ill intent. And yet here I am, spilling out my problems to him when he has much more serious matters to attend to. I can't be the only person in the world facing this situation (and I'm not even the one that's sick, so I really shouldn't be complaining). My head spins and spins in an endless circle.

Red is looking down at me from underneath the blue fedora I had given to him weeks ago.

When he eventually speaks, his tone is low and slightly rough sounding to my ears. "She'll pull through, if she's anything at all like yeh- - -" his words muffle into something unintelligible, and I squint my eyes to get them to focus on his face.

"Wha- - -" I slur, feeling my body suddenly heat up. It was as if I suddenly couldn't understand English.

Red's face blurs in my sight as I blink rapidly to clear my vision to no avail. I try mumbling something to him to keep the ringing in my ears from becoming unbearable, but my tongue feels thick in my mouth. My feet feel like there are a moment's away from giving out from under me, but I know that if I fall forward, he will catch me.

But my body has different plans for me, and I can hear the air swirling in my ears as my body falls backwards. It feels like everything is happening in slow motion, but I am powerless to stop it. I see the florescent lights flash before my field of vision as my eyes roll to the back of my head. I expect to hear the sound and feel the pain of my head hitting the tile floor, but I don't.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

"Elli, Elli, wake up," are the comforting words I hear next.

My eyelids are heavy and my voice sounds like I haven't used it in weeks. I see concerned green eyes and a fedora as I try to make sense of what just happened. "R-Ray...?"

"There's my girl," he whispers so only I can hear.

He lifts me up easily into his strong arms, and in my continued daze, I drape my arms lazily around his neck. He gets the attention of a nurse who promptly brings over a wheelchair. They then insist that Red comes with me to the ER since he was the one who found me passed out on the hospital floor.

In no time at all, I am surrounded by several nurses who are taking my vitals.

"So, Ma'am, I understand you fainted, is that correct?" One of them asks as she looks down at a clipboard she is holding.

I nod, horrified that my aunt has just had major surgery, and yet _I_ am the one in the emergency room.

"Are you pregnant?"

"No, of course not," Red answers for me in a somewhat alarmed voice before his eyes dart in my direction, "You're not, right?"

I laugh at the look on his face. It is almost uncertain, and a small whisper in my heart tells me to see the hope in this. I had never seen him at me the way he is looking at me now.

I wave my hand and pray that it would magically dissipate my growing knot of nerves in the pit of my stomach, "Goodness, it's been _years_ since I even been remotely- - -"

Red is hanging on every word of my reply, and I stop myself suddenly before I finish the thought as the color rises to fill my cheeks.

I clear my throat loudly and cough into my fisted hand. "No, I'm not."

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

When the nurses are confident that there is nothing physically wrong with me, they chalk it up to severe stress. I suppose Red had been right about it being unwise to keep things bottled up. This epiphany hits me as Red helps me up from the wheelchair I had been resting in once we exit the ER. No time like the present, right? Besides, what is it these young kids say now? YOLO?

Goodness, I'm a 90-year old lady in the body of a 20-something-year-old.

"Red?" I say softly, and I am happy when he turns to me with a smile. "You know...there's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while, but I'm not sure how to put it."

He steps closer to me, bridging the space between our bodies until we are almost touching. His eyes are deep green now, reflecting the same flicker of emotion I have been seeing for some time since meeting this charismatically magnetic man. Only this time, the look lingers and it feels like I am the only person in the world he is looking at right now.

I smile nervously. "I just wanted to say that- - -"

"Who's the pansy in the hat?"

I audibly choke back a gasp at the sound of another voice as I feel the color draining from my face.

"N-no, no- - -" I hiss nearly inaudibly. I'm not sure if I step back behind Red slightly, or he steps in front of me to put himself between me and the man who is now in our midst. Instinctively, I brush my hand against Red's as if to take a hold of it, but I stop myself from making any sudden movements. I feel Red's fingers twitch at the contact, but he remains silent.

"B-Bert, I didn't know you were in town," I answer slowly. "And this, this man is a...coworker of mine."

Bert opens his arms to me, pulling me away from Red and hugging me like a long-lost daughter. Finally, he releases me, but keeps a hand on my shoulder. His grip tightens, and I can smell the stale alcohol on his breath hidden by a mouthful of mints. I stiffen at his hands on my shoulder, and for a moment, Red's eyes find mine before I look down at my feet.

"Raymond Reddington, and may I say what a _splendid _toupee you have on," he says cheerily to the man while laughing almost evilly at the mop of hair atop Bert's head. "How many alpacas did they have to kill just so you can look that ridiculous?"

I see a vein popping angrily out of the side of Bert's neck as his beady, watery eyes give Red a death glare.

"Your aunt got in touch with me," he says to me while completely ignoring Red, "Seems that she wants me with her every step of the way from now on."

I cringe at the sound of my aunt's voice from the other room. "Bert, is that you?"

"Yes, my darling, I've come all the way here to see you. I won't ever leave your side...my precious heart, Lilian. I'm just having a chat with your _niece_ about what the doctors have done for you."

Red shakes my hand firmly while placing his other hand in top of mine. "I'll see you at work, Elli."

Bert leads me away from Red, and I have the sudden urge to cry, scream, and run into Red's arms all at once. Instead, I let myself be led back into Aunt Lilian's

I open my hand when Bert goes to the bathroom to examine the piece of paper Red slipped me when he shook my hand.

_Directions? To where?_

* * *

"Absolutely not," I tell Bert as he downs his fifth rum and Diet Coke. "I won't let you just move in with us. Your buddies are all in the backwaters of God-knows-where, so you can't just bully your way around here like you're used to doing."

We are now standing in my apartment living room after Bert had followed me home from the hospital.

"See this," he retorts, flinging his police officer's badge at me, "It means that in the case of 'she says, I say,' _I_ will always come out on top."

He sneers and stumbles toward the kitchen where he drops several luggage bags onto the floor. Before reaching for the Bacardi Light bottle on the countertop, he turns to face me again."And it's _Mr_. Bert to you, you impolite, crippled imp."

The adrenaline coursing through my body is causing me to shiver, but I remain quiet. Maybe if I don't talk, he'll just leave me alone. But unfortunately, Bert seems to have no intention of letting things go now.

He wags a finger at me like I'm some disobedient puppy. "You as much as breath wrongly in my direction, things will go very, _very_ badly for you."

I refuse to answer him. You can't really have an argument with someone when only one person is talking right?

Bert sways on his feet, but somehow manages to take his bags into Aunt Lilian's room. I follow him to make sure he doesn't damage anything I'd have to pay for later. I see him taking out his police baton to wave it in my face.

"But, maybe I'll just take this to the kneecap of your fruit-tart of a friend in the hat," he says with a laugh at the look of horror on my face. "Hah, I've finally gotten your attention."

I feel like I am twelve years old again, living in fear of the one person who's favorite hobby was making my life miserable. I lower my head and tell him that I'd talk to Aunt Lilian about him staying with us.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

Aunt Lilian stays in the hospital for a few days, and every day, Bert is by her bedside, whispering sweet-nothings in her ear. I can't stand the sight of the man who is more like a snake than a human being, but my aunt keeps insisting that he stays. Her request also includes having him stay with us in the apartment.

I think about reaching out to Red about everything going on in my life, but after Bert's threats concerning him, I know I can't involve him in this. In my mind, I understand that Red is a capable and dangerous criminal in his own right. And yet...having Bert there around me makes me feel irrational in ways I haven't felt in years- - -I am nothing more than that frightened, little girl all over again.

When the home-care nurse comes the next morning before I go to work to resume her care of Aunt Lilian, I pull her aside to talk to her.

"My aunt's husband is inside...be sure not to touch any of his things, and whatever you do, don't piss him off."

The day wears on uneventfully, but when I get home that night, my landlady corners me just before I reach the stairs. She runs her hands through her grey hair and refuses to look at me. I grip my cane tighter to brace myself for whatever it is she has to say.

"Eleanor, I've had an offer on the brownstone, and I'm taking it," she mutters guiltily, "They offered double...in cash. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to have you out of the apartment by next week."

* * *

I am back in my office in DC the next day, and I try to maintain a sense of normalcy amidst everything that's happening. But I find my brain is in a constant fog, and I am having difficulty concentrating. My mind is on Aunt Lilian and how Bert is there with her the entire day.

I am so out of it that I don't even notice Red coming into my office. He tells me something as he bends down to put another piece of paper in my hand.

I shove the paper in my pant's pocket and mutter things about how busy I am and all of the deadlines I have to meet. No time to think about other things when I have a mountain of work stacking up on my desk. Speaking of things I have to do, I should go and make photocopies of all those pictures used in the Blacklist cases for my formal reports, and I should probably- - -

"Talk to me, Elli."

I look down and see his hands over mine. I take a deep breath and try to figure out what I am going to tell Red.

"It's Bert," I finally say, "He's the reason my aunt and I- - -"

My phone vibrates in my pocket and it's the hospital on the other end, telling me they had to rush my aunt there. I give one last look to Red before driving to the hospital as fast as I can.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

Blood clot broke off and traveled to her lungs, they say. There was nothing they could do, they express solemnly. I hear what the doctor is telling me, but I do not listen. I see his mouth moving, but I do not process the information.

The static in my ears is all I hear.

The taste of blood fills my mouth as I bite my cheek to keep from screaming.

Aunt Lilian is dead, and no amount of modern medicine can bring her back.

* * *

Day one after Lilian's death

* * *

Day 2

* * *

Day 3

* * *

_I really should eat something besides saltine crackers and water._

* * *

Day 4

* * *

I am grateful I had extended my time off when Aunt Lilian died, because I'm not really sure what I have been doing these past few days. I suppose I ate, and I think I remember showering at some point. Bert has not been back to the apartment since her death.

None of it really matters because I don't even have the strength to care.

I somehow put in Red's address to his latest safe-house into my phone, and I know that I am walking down the streets away from my apartment. This particular safe-house seems to be quite a ways away from my location, but I keep walking long after my leg begins pulsing in pain. My eyes are burning, and part of me just wants to sit down somewhere, but nevertheless, I trudge onward.

I knock on a door now, and Dembe finds me standing at the steps with a lost look on my face. I think he tells me to "Come in," or maybe he guides me inside, I'm not entirely sure.

I am led into a spacious room that contains several sofas and love-seats placed underneath a luxurious-looking Persian rug. I notice several thick blankets situated around the area, and I have a feeling that Red has spent many nights asleep on these particular pieces of furniture.

I see Red fixing himself a drink from what looks like the in-home bar area. He turns when he hears the sound of my footsteps, but I stop and stand there in the middle of the sitting area as our eyes meet.

"I haven't slept in days," I croak hoarsely as he studies me from where he stands.

He offers me a drink that smells faintly of orange zest and waits, probably assuming I would turn the drink down like I had before.

I take it without hesitation and his eyebrow raises in my direction as Red sits down on one of the plush, leather sofas. I sink down by his side and listen to the ice cubes rattling in the small glass.

"S-she's gone."

He moves closer to me without making a sound. "I know."

My body shudders, and I cover my mouth with shaking hands to hide the whimper that escapes me.

"I...I have no one..."

He takes the drink from my hands and sets it on the table in front of us while wrapping me up in an embrace in one fluid motion.

"Shhh," he murmurs, his lips brushing up against my hair as he holds me. "You will get through this, I promise."

He cradles me gently and strokes my back, and it is only when I feel his thumb brushing away my tears that I realize I am crying.

I don't know how long I stay there with him holding me like that, or how long the surges of anger and sadness overcome me in waves.

I go from being numb to having everything about my aunt suddenly thrust upon my consciousness in stark relief. Every joke she's told, every birthday we've spent together, every summertime vacation...I see it all replaying in my mind like a movie I desperately want to shut off.

It hurt.

I bury my face in Red's chest.

_I_ hurt.

I clutch his cotton shirt so tightly my fingers ache.

_Everything_ hurts...I'd do anything to just make it go away. But all I want to do now is to close my eyes and never open them again.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

I do open my eyes again, however, and my face stings from a wetness that has long since dried. Red's arms are still wrapped around me, but he now has his eyes closed and is leaning back in his seat. I jerk instinctively when I feel the weight of a heavy blanket covering us. How long had I slept?

"I'm sorry," I say as I push myself away from him. "I'm sorry for coming here, for ruining your night, for- - -"

His hand cups my face and my voice falls silent. "Don't _ever _apologize for feeling," Red says, his voice deep and soothing, "Do you understand?"

I stop fidgeting and just look into his face, my muscles relaxing once more in his arms. I nod.

He kisses my forehead slowly, and I have no more tears in me to cry.

* * *

I sneak out of Red's house the next morning before dawn, ashamed at my blatant display of weakness. I couldn't bring myself to face him in the coming days, so I drown myself in my work. In addition to preparing to cremate my aunt's remains, I now only have two days to get out of my apartment. I guess it's a good thing I never really unpacked my things from my first move.

I find another note penned in beautiful handwriting when I come back to my office from my lunch break. It is the directions to Red's newest safe-house he nicknamed the "Writer's Home." I can't help but to smile at the set of simple directions he's also included at the bottom of the address to make it easier for me to find him in case my phone should happen to die on me again as it had done that one fateful morning we had met.

I return home to my apartment later than usual, and judging from the large clouds and the distant roll of thunder, I assume that rain is on its way. I order some Chinese food and take out some of the information from the Blacklist cases to work on. As I am typing up my reports, I look over the pictures from the cases until something catches my eye, causing me to gasp.

There, in the background, was Bert. I look at another picture from the Freelancer case. There he was again. I am now sifting through all of the cases in rapid succession, and they all have one thing in common.

Bert has been involved in every single Blacklist case.

My feet pound heavily on the wooden floor, and I feel myself breaking out into another anxious sweat. I don't understand how or why he would be in those pictures, but I knew I needed more proof before I take action. I sneak into what used to be Aunt Lilian's room and scour the place for Bert's belongings he had brought with him when he had reasserted himself into our lives. I unzip the black duffle bags and rummage through his things until I find a secret pocket sewn into the bag's lining.

I find another stash of pictures, and my breath hitches painfully in my chest. There were pictures of me and Aunt Lilian in DC, pictures of me at my job, and what looked like older pictures of Aunt Lilian and another couple I did not recognize. Thunder crashes loudly outside, but I do not startle at the sound for my eyes are locked onto the last set of pictures in my hands.

"Red," I whisper.

What connections does my family have with Raymond Reddington? And why would Bert be tracking all of us?

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

I take my cane and dash for the door, but I stop dead in my tracks as Bert walks into the apartment.

"Whoa, what's the rush, someone else died?" He says as his mouth upturns oddly at the corner.

I feel as if an anvil just planted itself on my chest. "I just...I have to go. Excuse me," I say as I brush past him and out of the door.

I nearly fall down the slippery steps as I try taking them two at a time in my rush. The rain comes down upon me in buckets, but I break out into a run.

"Hey, wait!" Bert yells as the rain intensifies. I hope my fake smile is convincing as I stop to watch him approaching me. "You forgot your umbrella."

His eyes shift to the side as if to check for others in the area, and his face seems to transform as a look of rage takes over.

"You just can't keep your nose out of other people's business, can you?"

He lunges at me, knocking me off balance and sending my cane flying. My pants are torn at the knees as I try to get out of his way. A searing pain knocks the wind out of me, and I know he's kicked me in the ribs. He is standing over me, and for one brief moment, I have the fleeting thought that I may die in the street.

My fingers wrap around my cane and I ram it into his groin, and he crumples onto the ground beside me with a groan. I scramble to my feet and swing my cane down on his face with as much force as I can muster. I hear the gut-wrenching sound of bone cracking and I know this is my chance to escape.

"Left, down, left, right, cat in the window," I keep saying to myself as I run as fast as I am able to reach the only one I know who will help me. My fear-laced veins fuel my pumping legs as I run in a sort of skipping fashion, keeping my cane clutched in my hands in case I need to use it again. I have no time to think, no time to wonder if what I am doing is the right thing to do. All I know is that I have to find Red before Bert finds me again.

I locate his safe-house after going through the twists and turns Red had set out for me in his note.

"Please!" I scream as I pound on the door frantically, my eyes fixated on the corner in panicked expectation, "Open the door, open the door!"

* * *

**PS. I am always open to new ideas and suggestions, so if there is anything you'd like to see happen to the characters, please let me know! **


	5. Dancing to Forget

**A/N: Thank you all so very much for reading and reviewing! I try to thank everyone who's commented, but I'd also like to thank all of the guests who take the time to send a word my way as well. It makes my day! This chapter is dark, then light, and dark again, so I hope you enjoy it! Don't forget to check out the lyrics/melodies to the songs mentioned~**

**Chapter songs:**

**"My Way": Frank Sinatra**

**"Slow Rumba" (the "soft melody" Red is listening to): Mario Berger**

**PS: This chapter contains more colorful language, so I thought I'd give you a heads up just in case. Also, this is a super long chapter I split into two due to the fact that I won't be able to update for a while with real life stuffs I need to do before the end of the year. I hope you'll stick it out with me for a while until I can update again!**

* * *

**Episode 5: The Courier (No. 85); The Corrector (No. 35)**

_Grey: "The seller hired the Courier to make the exchange. The last time we attempted to intercept him..."_

_Reddington: "I'm well aware of the men and resources we lost in Cairo."_

* * *

The rain soaks through my clothes and continues to whip into me like another assault. I pound on the door repeatedly, but my pleas are drowned by the howling wind. I hear the sound of muffled, running steps and I scream as a searing pain courses through my left arm. I try unsuccessfully to kick and thrash as Bert drags me by my arm into an alleyway. His face is partially concealed with a handkerchief, but I can see that he's bloody, no doubt due to a broken nose I inflicted on him with my cane moments earlier.

My body is thrown around like a rag-doll into a large dumpster, and I collapse onto the muddy pavement with a buzzing in my ears that refuses to subside. The wind is knocked out of me, and all I can do is stare up into the sky as the rain falls on my face.

_The pain...god, make the pain stop..._

He now grabs me by my hair and rams me up against the brick siding of a building, blood immediately oozing out of a fresh gash in the back of my head.

"You think you're so smart don't you?" Bert snarls as he bangs my head against the bricks a second time, "Looks like I've been wasting my time watching the wrong house- - -"

I see a figure in my peripheral vision, but before I can react, Bert hurls me forward and I find myself in Red's arms as my attacker sprints off in the opposite direction. With one arm, Red shields me while his other hand grips a gun. Two loud cracks thunder through the air, one of them making contact to send Bert hobbling but alive.

He disappears from view, and mere seconds later, the sound of a car engine can be heard revving up to escape.

I clutch my injured arm as I venture to look up into Red's face. He's livid, his body taunt underneath a fluffy, white robe and cotton sleeping pants. I hear the _click_ of an empty gun magazine, and Red swears under his breath. Dembe bursts through the door and onto the street, his eyes searching the area like a hawk. He starts to walk down the alley where the car had now sped off, but Red waves his hand with a small shake of his head. The rain made it nearly impossible to get a clean shot, and with all of the rapid-fire chain of events, Bert escapes back into the retched darkness from which he had slithered from.

Red wraps his arm around me protectively and I am soon guided back into the house.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

Red examines my face by tilting my head from side to side. His eyes blaze with a fiery wrath when he sees blood dripping down my neck.

His voice is so throaty and dark it sends a shiver through me."Who did this?"

"I c-can't," I blubber, my eyes blinded by the sting of scared tears.

A hand reaches up and cups my cheek and I find myself, my quivering, blundering wreck of a self, looking up into those intense green eyes. "You're safe with me, Elli."

No one utters a word as he strokes my cheek gently while he waits for me to calm down. Finally, he breaks eye contact and reaches behind me to grab a cellphone from a small table.

"It's me," he says after dialing a number. I watch as he separates himself from me to slowly pace the floor. "Yes...what we've discussed. No...he should be no problem for you."

He stops and listens to the other end before ultimately responding with, "See that it gets done tonight, and your payment will be shipped to you in the morning."

"Of all the times to make a mistake," I hear him mutter quietly as he pushes a button to end the call.

He sees me holding my arm and touches his fingers along my shoulder. The shocking pain shoots up my arm again, and I yelp like a wounded bird as I try to back away from Red.

"I'm sorry, Elli," he says, trying to get closer to me once again, "I know it hurts, but I need to see it."

He scans my arm as it hangs down in an odd, distorted fashion. His eyes remain on me, but he instead addresses someone else.

"Luli, grab the blankets in the living area and meet me in the dining room."

She dashes off to the next room, and Red now focuses his attention on me. We shuffle into the dining room, and he gestures to me with a flick of his head. "I need you to lie on your back on the table with your arm hanging over the side."

I immediately do as he instructs, but I'm beginning to feel the adrenaline wear off while an excruciating pain replaces it. I bite down on my lip to keep my eyes from tearing up as Red helps me onto the table while placing my arm in the proper position.

"Ah, great," he responds when he sees Luli coming back into the room. "Wrap the blanket around her waist like a sling. When I pull slowly on her arm, I want you to be the counter-tension and pull against my direction."

"Relax," he breaths, letting his own breath go slowly to get me to mimic him.

I start to whimper as the pulsing pangs in my arm intensifies when Red starts tugging at it to get it reset in place. His eyes tear away from the task and meet mine. The low timbre of his voice resonates like a melody as he begins to speak.

"I went to Lisbon as you know, up in this little villa with an awe-inspiring view of the water. And every night I would go out, and I would watch people in the city square- - - dancing for hours at a time and drinking even longer. There was something about their zest for life, their...insatiable fire for their passions that I found invigorating. And the music- - -show after show of some the finest live performances I have ever had the opportunity to witness."

He leans in closer so the others cannot hear, his breath warm against my skin as he continues to slowly pull my arm. "But, in spite of all of those luxuries...all of the _life_ I was surrounded by...the first thought on my mind when I'd wake up to that breath-taking view would be of _you_. Because in the end of it all, what's a view if you have no one to share it with?"

My breath releases and an audible pop is heard as my shoulder slides back into its proper place.

The pain is gone, and my concentration is returning from the fog it had been in. Everyone is watching us, watching as I stare at the man so near to me. My heart swells with an emotion I have never felt before, and part of me is scared at the intensity of it all. I don't know how to put it into words, words that would make sense in this increasingly confusing world.

So I smile- - -I smile behind blurred eyes.

And eventually- - - Red smiles back, too.

* * *

It's too late to book a hotel room so Red lets me stay with him. Luli is kind enough to lend me one of her oversized shirts and shorts to sleep in. I quickly take a shower to rid myself of the caked on blood on my skin and in my hair. But even though I am careful to not touch the wound on the back of my head, just having the cool water running over it is enough to make me hiss in pain. I dress after I get out of the shower, noticing that the tall, asian woman's "shorts" look more like capris pants on me.

Red's gaze follows me as I make my way into the room with a towel draped over my shoulder. He looks befuddled, cocking his head to the side as if he has never seen me before in his life.

"I never would have guessed your hair is that long...and curly, too."

"Hah, yeah, my Keri Russell curls," I reply as I walk over to where he is sitting with an arm slung over the back of the couch.

I take my place next to him, but the pants I'm wearing ride up my legs to show my calves, and I see Red's eyes traveling there instantly.

"I guess my secret ritual of painstakingly straightening my hair all this time is out of the bag," I say nervously as I pull at the fabric down to cover the scar on my right leg that had been peaking out. "I also wear contacts, too, if you're really interested."

It feels strange to talk about such seemingly trivial things as if nothing at all had just happened. And yet somehow, talking this way calms the nervous energy that had been bubbling up inside of me.

"Here, let me see," Red says as he turns me slowly so that I am facing away from him. His hands are delicate as he studies the gash in the back of my head, mumbling something about how lucky I am that I wouldn't need stitches. The sofa cushion creaks as Red rises to walk over to a side table. Opening a drawer, he comes back over to sit down with something in his hands. My mind begins to replay the night's events and I think back to Bert and everything he has done to me in my life thus far. Red remains quiet as he unscrews the cap to what I can only assume is a tube of anti-infection ointment.

I blurt my thoughts aloud to fill the silence. "Am I a bad person?"

I flinch when I feel Red dabbing the gel onto the cut, but he is quick to smooth out my hair in a comforting gesture.

"Why would you ask me?"

I hesitate while I study the lines in my palms. "I wouldn't feel bad if Bert were killed, I'd be relieved. I'm pretty sure that makes me a bad person...wanting someone dead."

He takes my hand in one of his and laces our fingers together. "Thank you for finally trusting me." He strokes his thumb along my hand. "And to answer such a stupid question, no, you're not a bad person."

"He had pictures of you...I don't understand it," I continue on, knowing it is easier for me to talk to him while I'm not facing him. "What would he have against you?"

"I'm afraid you're just going to have to trust me again when I say I'd like to know the answer to that myself."

I shift to try and look at him from the corner of my eye. "You're going after him?"

"You're in danger, Elli, and I don't like it. I'll make sure he gets what he deserves."

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

Just before sitting down to eat a midnight meal of take-out pizza, Grey, Red's butler of sorts, informs us that the men following Bert have all been killed.

"What's more," the tall, skeleton-thin man says emotionlessly to Red, "the bodies all have strange, crescent-shaped cuts on them."

I set my pizza slice down as nausea begins to overwhelm me. "I'm so sorry to get you all mixed up in this. If it wasn't for me moving up here, that asshole, excuse the word, wouldn't be killing your people, Red."

Red sits back in his chair slowly. "No, I believe the situation has become a bit more complicated than that," he says before falling into silent thought.

He addresses Grey some time later. "Call Mr. Kaplan for cleanup detail, and I'll take care of the rest."

* * *

**That Night**

* * *

I spring upright in bed covered in a cold sweat that runs down my neck and back. I shut my eyes as I try to remember the nightmare that had plagued me. Once I open my eyes again, a can see the faint glow of lamplight from my room, so I tip-toe past Luli and go into the main living area. I see Red sitting there on a couch with a tray containing a teapot and various other containers in front of him. He does a double-take as I try my best to give him a feeble wave hello. I move slowly to the couch, my body feeling like it has been run over by a truck. Red gets up and ties his robe tighter around his waist before disappearing into the next room. I look curiously in his direction until he appears later with another teacup in hand.

"Got any Sinatra you can put on?" I ask quietly before he reaches me. He nods wordlessly and goes to the corner of the room where an old sound system rests. He soon joins me on the couch with the music playing softly in the background. I exhale in contentment.

He studies me for a time until I begin to fidget, wondering what could possibly be capturing his attention in such a way. I then tuck my feet underneath my body out of habit while I wait for Red to say something.

"Lots of milk and sugar?"

I scrunch my face up at the odd question. "I beg your pardon?"

"Your tea," he continues with a chuckle as he pours some black English tea in another cup, "you take it with a great amount of both, correct?"

I nod and Red proceeds to stir in the aforementioned ingredients before handing the steaming cup to me.

We sit in silence, and I glance out of the window near us.

"Does it keep you up at night?" Red's focus is now on the scar on my leg, and for a brief moment, fear grips my heart.

I fiddle with the teacup in my hands as I think of what to say. "It's not the only thing that's wrong with my leg or me, but y-yes, sometimes," I answer slowly, suddenly becoming self-conscious.

"Show me?"

I hold my breath, but uncurl my legs from underneath me to shift over to my side. My fingers tremble as I lift my pant's leg, exposing a very jagged, wide scar. I see his eyes widening minutely as I continue to pull the fabric back until I come to my thigh. The top of the scar is still hidden underneath the shorts as the thing reaches my hip bone, but I stop before revealing too much of myself to him. Red reaches down and traces a finger along the angry-looking edges as if committing the sight to memory. My skin beads at his touch, and I stare at the almost sensual way his fingertips crawl up my leg.

"You have nightmares from it?"

I shiver as he continues to examine me. "I haven't dreamed about it in such a long time before tonight. It feels less like a memory and more like the pieces to a puzzle I can never put together. I remember people coming into our house, and I remember how horribly bloody my leg looked after an attack with a large but blunt knife. But, everything else, who those people were, what happened to my parents, and how I ended up alive...it's all such a blur."

My throat burns, but I push on, determined to tell at least one person the whole story. "I woke up in an orphanage in Texas where they told me my parents had been murdered in a botched robbery, and I stayed there until they found my mother's sister, my Aunt Lilian, living in Louisiana. Until that time, I don't think I even knew my mother had a sister. But now after all of these years, Aunt Lilian is the only face I can see when I think about my mother."

I look down and see Red's hand intertwined with mine. "You don't remember anything else from that night?"

The next song from Red's Sinatra CD fills the air and it catches my attention. "Ya' know, it's the weirdest thing," I reply with a tired laugh, "Do you remember wondering why a woman my age would like music like this?"

Red nods his head in response and I continue on, "Well, the only thing I remember other than the blood was the song 'My Way.' So growing up, whenever I'd hear Sinatra or Dean Martin, I'd get this sense of calm... this sense of peace. I guess that's why I've always liked music like this."

I shake my head as I shrug my shoulders. "I dunno, though...maybe it was all in my head."

I watch him run his tongue over the side of his mouth in thought, and I begin to think Red won't answer at all.

"I don't think so," he states before taking another sip of his tea.

I smile half-heartedly at his reply and allow myself to relax. We continue to drink together, and I feel a weight being lifted off of my shoulders. Red is with me, and as long as he is here, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I am safe from harm. Even if it takes me a lifetime, I decide right then that I will do everything in my power to repay this man for making me feel like I have a fighting chance in life- - -for making me feel like I _matter_.

* * *

In the coming days, I bounce around from hotel to hotel, never staying in one place for more than two nights. This must be how Red feels on a daily basis with so many people out to get him. For the time being, he stays at the writer's home in case Bert comes back to lurk around the area, but as the days pass, there is still no word about his whereabouts. I push Bert out of my mind and focus my research for the FBI instead.

Today is a gloomy Sunday, and Luli tells me that Red is out for the morning on business with the Post Office. We make plans to meet up today to check out a new art gallery in the area, but while I am on the way to Red's to meet her, I see a farmer's market loaded with various fresh vegetables and meat. An idea sparks when I see a cast iron pot on sale, so I grab some things on a whim and make my way over to the writer's house with a grin on my face.

Dembe opens the door, his tall, dark frame casting on ominous shadow in the doorway. I resist the urge to cower under the presence of this man, and instead ask if Red is in fact, out for the time being. He stares at me for several moments, his face stern and intimidating until he sees the bags of groceries in my arms.

"I thought I would surprise you all with dinner," I say cheerfully, "Where I'm from, we use food to express many things. In my case it's to say...to say 'thank you' for helping me out the other night."

He steps aside, and I am momentarily taken aback by the look on the usual stoic man's face. Was that a smile? No, I must clearly be imagining things.

I immediately head to the kitchen, unpack the meat, flour, oil, and a handful of seasonings and vegetables, and get to work. As the roux I am working on begins to thicken and brown, I am happy that both Luli and Dembe had to be chased out of the kitchen after they curiously wandered in to try and steal a taste or two.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

Just when I am adding the meat to the pot, I hear Red's voice singing throughout the house. "Something smells absolutely heavenly!" He pokes his head in the kitchen and is taken off-guard to see me standing there.

"Nah ah, no coming in," I say as I hurry towards Red to push him out of the room playfully. "You'll have to wait just like everyone else." In the flurry of the moment, I kiss him on the cheek without thinking.

I see the flash of surprise lighting up his green eyes, and I struggle to hold back a giggle. _I wouldn't mind seeing _that_ expression more often_, I think to myself smugly as I get him out of the room.

I had forgotten how much I used to love cooking for people, but now that I'm watching everyone, including Red, inhale at least two bowls of gumbo with goofy grins on their faces, I take a mental note to do it more often for this strange group of people. After the meal is over, we spend the day inside since the weather's threatening to turn bad, and before I know it, it is evening again.

Red invites me to stay the night since, according to him, I am a lot safer at the writer's house than I am in some dank hotel in the middle of nowhere.

I, of course, happily accept another night of rooming with Luli, although I tell myself that I really should just pack a bag next time instead of borrowing her clothes.

* * *

Night falls and it is now sleeting outside. I step into a sitting room filled with books on all sides and a large, brown-leather chair situated in front of a roaring fire. The pleasant smell (well, pleasant to me anyways) of burning wood fills my lungs and my eyes begin to adjust to the dim flickering of firelight. There's a soft melody playing, warming the room with the soft tones of a soothing guitar player's masterful hands.

I am whisked away by the sound, and I do not know how long I stand there, looking at the back of the man watching the fire.

"I find music to be a great escape from reality, much like yourself, I believe." Red tells me, "But in all of my travels across every continent on this earth, I find dancing with a truly beautiful woman to be one of the world's rarest pleasures."

He turns to me and holds out his hand, his still frame reminiscent of a great Da Vinci sculpture.

The light flickers playfully around his body, his eyes softened in an expression I had never seen before on him. My gaze wanders down until I see his hand still waiting for my reply.

"Won't you dance with me, Elli?"

I place my hand in his and he steps up to meet me as we begin dancing. I thank the heavens for my weekly lessons while I try to remember the steps I had learned when doing a rumba.

_Slow...quick, quick slow_, I repeat to myself to try and keep to the beat of the music.

My breath hitches in my chest when I hear him speaking to me. "Look up at me with those lovely eyes of yours and stop thinking so much."

Our gazes lock, and I sway my body to the music, feeling its rhythm flowing through me like a warm embrace. The hand gracing my back pulls me closer as Red moves in tandem with me in practiced steps. I rock from side to side in fluid motions, and I feel his touch moving lower until they rest on my hips for a breath's time. He then twirls me slowly outward before reeling me back in. The look in his eyes, the feel of his hands on me, is like nothing I have ever experienced- - - and I love it.

He dips me gently and I feel the sensation of his warm breath near the base of my neck. His lips are so close they nearly brush along my skin, but he stops just short of the action. When he brings me back up, our faces are so close together it sends my pulse racing. He pushes a lock of hair away from my face, and his hand caresses my cheek. I close my eyes, a hum escaping my lips as I turn to place a slow kiss on the inside of his palm.

His fingers curl along the back of my neck, pulling me forward until our lips meet, sending a jolt of electricity through my veins. We step into each other's embrace as our bodies press together, and every part of me comes alive from the contact. His lips are soft and supple, but are cautiously hesitant as we explore the newness of our physical expression for each other. His mouth travels over my lips slowly but with a subtle confidence I know comes from experience. We break away after a time, and I stare into his green eyes as I run my fingers along his sideburns.

Red's smile is one I would never forget.

His hands are now around my waist and we start to move again, but this time with no space between us. "You're a small piece of sunlight for me in this world of shadows, Elli," he says in my ear.

We continue to dance slowly as the fire dances with us in its hearth, bathing us in an array of light and shadows.


	6. The Courier and the Corrector

**The Courier and The Corrector (cont'd)**

* * *

Red leaves some time after everyone goes to sleep, and I figure it must have something to do with another Blacklist case he is working on with Agent Keen.

I toss and turn throughout the night once the lights are off, and by dawn, I am fully awake. I take a manuscript I find lying around the house titled "The Efficacies of Love" and curl up on the couch by the window to read.

I am startled out of my reverie by the sound of Red's voice. "Had trouble sleeping again?"

"Yes," I reply quietly as he takes off his jacket and begins to undo the buttons of his vest.

"No one's typically awake at this hour."

"You are," I say breathily, and his eyes find mine as the air grows thick with something that makes my blood pump with excitement.

The moment changes, however, and he turns away to hang his clothes on a doorknob. "I'm _always _awake."

I don't know what to feel. I want to say something about the kiss we shared last night, about how I want things to continue between us. I look at him, trying to convey the emotions my mouth has a hard time saying. But I break his gaze and return to reading, and Red seems content at picking up a stack of papers to read by my side.

I get up when I hear movement coming from Luli's room, sighing as I distance myself from Red.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

"Ugh," I groan as I flop down on the bed next to Luli's. I look over at the woman who's propped up on her elbow watching me. "You're sexy, right?"

"Thanks for noticing," she purrs.

"Why can't I just be like you?"

Luli smirks with a cat-like grin. "Meaning...?"

"I wish I could just," I let out of puff of air in frustration as I make a motion in the air with my hands, "Just grab him and give him the hottest kiss of his life and not be so scared about wondering whether or not he even likes me. I'm a grown woman, you'd think I wouldn't be acting like some dumb teenager."

"Hold that thought, the tea's ready," she says suddenly before jogging out of the room.

I watch her as she leaves. I_ guess that's what they do here...solve crimes and drink tea. How very Sherlock Holmes of everyone_, I think to myself with a chuckle.

"You made out with him last night, though, didn't you?" Luli says as she hands me a saucer and teacup while keeping one for herself.

"Well yeah, sort of," I say with a blush, but not in the least bit surprised that she would know such information, "but maybe that was a fluke. Maybe he deals with tons of women that way."

"No," she says flatly before taking a large gulp of her own drink, "Raymond may be a flirt and a tease, but he stopped doing a lot of things he used to do some time ago. I haven't seen him look at someone like he looks at you for...for a very long time."

"But why? Why would he even want to be with me?"

"You're honest with him about everything," she replies in a matter-of-fact tone, "Well, except the fact that you wanna- - -" she wiggles her hips at me and pouts her lips.

I pretend to roll my eyes at the woman who is clearly having fun at my expense. "Yeah...I take back what I said about you being cool and sexy."

"He likes that, though," she continues as she finishes the last of her tea. "Just show him that you're definitely interested and trust me, you'll be happy you did."

"Mmhmm, I bet you'd know all about that- - -"

I am interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut, and Luli leaps up to get to the door in order to listen for any sign of danger. I hear heels clicking swiftly along the wooden floor of the main area, and I recognize the voice speaking to Grey in a clipped tone.

"Shit, what's Agent Keen doing here?" I hiss nervously.

"I'll find out," she says as she grabs a lavender, silk robe from the floor, "Quick, give me your tea."

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

"Fredrick wrote to the editor of the _Washington Post_ almost every day...thank you," Red says when he notices Luli setting down the cup in front of him. "about any and every subject. Listen to this, 'Dear Mr. Bradley, what is up with all the rabbits- - -"

Smiling, Luli walks out slowly and Agent Keen steps aside to let her pass. As soon as she is out of view, I hear her footsteps coming back in my direction.

"Well?" I say apprehensively.

"She's pissed, from the looks of things," she says as she raids her closet until she finds a particularly dark-washed pair of jeans and her leather jacket. "Probably knows Raymond isn't telling her everything about the Courier case."

With that said, Luli heads to the bathroom to finish getting ready for the day, and I am left wondering what I should do about the situation.

I smile to myself. _Heh, if anyone would have told me that Luli and I would be sitting in our pajamas discussing our love lives, I would've called them absolutely crazy. And of course, my first girl friend in years happens to be someone who could kill people in their sleep, while the only man I'm attracted to probably _**has**_ killed someone in their sleep. Way to go on your life choices, Elli._

Despite knowing all this, I still find myself wanting to learn to be happy once more. And I'm more than certain that, once Bert is removed from the picture, I can do just that.

* * *

I wander closer to the room where Agent Keen and Red are talking, but I have no intention of interrupting them (or trying to explain to Agent Keen why I'm even at Red's safe-house at the moment). I hear him talking about the Courier and about how he had lost two of his people during a confrontation with the man in Cairo. They then decide the next course of action, and Agent Keen leaves just as quickly as she came.

"She's gone now, if you want to join me," Red calls to me without bothering to look up from the paper he was reading.

I offer him an embarrassed grin as an apology for eavesdropping when I walk into what appears to have been an office. "How's Agent Keen doing? You two are working on a case, right?"

"Yes, trying to find a poor NSA boy by the name of Seth before he meets an untimely death by means of being buried alive."

My mind perks awake at the mention of the name. "Oh my god, Seth _Nelson_?" I exclaim in disbelief, "Real sickly looking, pale, skinny guy..._that _Seth?"

Red sets whatever he is reading down and looks at me with a raised brow. "An acquaintance of yours?"

I scoff bitterly at the thought. "Hardly," I retort, "He participated in a student-exchange program at my undergraduate university. He happened to be one of the youngest students on campus at 15...also one who made my life hell for months."

His face darkens instantly. "He hurt you?"

"No, no, nothing physical," I say as I wave my hands in front of my face to disperse the situation. "He heard Bert and I get into a fight the first night he and my aunt dropped me off at my dorm. I was a 1st semester freshmen so I wanted to meet new people, make friends and all of that. But he heard Bert call me an imp, one of his favorite insults, and when I woke up the next morning, I found posters and flyers all over campus with my picture saying "Gimpy Impy Elli" on them. No one really bothered to even talk to me much after that since he made it sound like I had a contagious disease."

Red blinks at me, and I feel the need to keep talking to explain the situation further. "It was so stupid and lame really, but Seth got a kick out of doing stuff like that for the entire semester he was at my school. He'd steal my cane, bump into me so I'd drop things, dumb crap like that...like he was still in middle school or something." I sigh and shake my head to rid myself of a time I'd like to forget. "Kids will be kids, I guess."

"Maybe he should stay kidnapped, then."

My eyes get large at the curt comment, but Red laughs and reassures me he is only joking.

A short while later, Red and the rest of us eventually pile into the SUV the FBI has provided them, and they drop me off at my office before meeting Agent Keen at Red's contact's home. Through him, Red tells me, it would be highly likely that they would be able to discover the Courier's safe-house in the hopes of finding some leverage to make the man talk.

* * *

I stay connected to the case throughout the next hours so that I can provide constant updates about it to the field office where I'm working. But, my day ends and I have not heard an update from Agent Keen or Red in several hours. Just then, my phone dings in a notification to tell me I have an incoming text. I grin when I see it's from Red.

_Meet me at the Post Office if you're interested in seeing if a bully gets to live to see another day._

_~Red_

I waste no time going to the Post Office where Red is waiting for me. He tells me they are about to release the woman at the center of the scandal, DeChambeau. He wants me to be his "plus 1" in order to decrease suspicion in case the nightclub she owns is up and running again. I may not technically be a field agent, but all of these cases have sure been exhilarating for me, so I have no qualms in accompanying Red despite the dangers I may face. I can't be scared and anxious all of the time, and I take this opportunity to work towards that goal.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

We make quite the pair from the outside with similar looking hats atop our heads as we practically saunter in the woman's night club and into her office undetected thanks to the FBI's raid of the place earlier. I wait in the shadows at the very corner of the room out of sight, while Red makes himself comfortable in a part of the room where he will definitely be noticed. And sure enough, the woman in question rushes into the office less than an hour later, heading straight to a bar to pour herself a drink. I watch as Red gets her attention, and her face immediately goes from pompous satisfaction to scared in a second.

"What do you want?" She snaps at Red.

I nearly cough in surprise when his eyes flicker in my direction when he answers."_So_ many things."

Luckily I am able to remain quiet and hidden as I observe the encounter.

"But right now I want some information," Red adds as he walks toward the woman.

She seems agitated, nervously pacing the floor while her large eyes are constantly darting around the room. She spots me, but I keep my position and she turns her attention back to Red with an irritated sigh as she tells him that the NSA agent was handed off to the Courier. She insists that she has no clue where he is now, but Red is quick to pick up on her deception. It is almost like seeing art being made right before my very eyes to watch this man work. He never once threatens her life directly, but makes her see the fact that, no matter what she would do, she would end up dead unless she helps us.

Initially, DeChambeau refuses to aid us, making excuse after excuse, until Red corners her with information about the Courier.

"Well, he knows you. He knows where you live, where you work, where you play. He knows you better than I do, and I know where that lovely little freckle of yours is."

My eyebrows nearly disappear beneath my thick bangs. I know I can't expect Red to not have had sexual partners through the years. Heck, I'm positive he's had many partners with the lifestyle that he lives, but I didn't think he would bring something up like this while I'm in the same room with the woman. Regardless, I'd rather not dwell on his past lovers (because that's not attractive in a person, I know), so instead, I listen as the negotiations are under way to get her out of the country.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

After DeChambeau shows us on a map where she had dropped off Seth, we lead her to Red's private plane and make sure the take-off is as planned. My gaze wanders until Red faces me.

"Something on your mind, Elli?"

I can't resist the urge, yet I try to keep my tone light and airy. "So where _is _that 'lovely, little freckle of hers'?"

"Oh, you mean her toy poodle, Freckle?

I laugh very un-ladylike until my side hurts.

"What? You thought I had _slept_ with the woman?" Red replies as he throws his head up in a laugh of his own. "She's an excellent kisser, mind you, but she's a bit too moody for my tastes."

_Right...you wanted to flirt, I can give it right back to you..._

I make my voice quiet so he has to lean in closer to hear me. "And what _are _your tastes?" I say, hovering my hand around his ear as I whisper into it.

A sound seems to come from deep within Red's chest that makes me swallow thickly. If I didn't know any better, I would almost say his exhale was a _growl_...and a very animalistic one at that. But the moment passes in a flash, and he is again smiling at me.

"I feel like Thai this evening, after closing the case, what do you think?"

So much for me trying to get him hot and bothered...now _I'm _the one who's left breathless.

But we have little time to waste as Seth is rapidly running out of oxygen, so Red and I speed back to the Post Office to deliver the information.

* * *

I have no desire to stay and reconnect with Seth so I head back to the van without a second look in his direction once they find him buried in a makeshift coffin in the ground. Within minutes, the place is swarming with police, FBI and other emergency personnel.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

The rescued NSA agent is now laying in a stretcher that is about to be lifted into an ambulance when Red approaches him. He bends down and whispers in the boy's ear.

"Impy Elli sends her regards. In fact, she's the reason I let the FBI find you _alive_."

Red then straightens up just as Agent Keen arrives to inform the agent that his parents have been notified. If the boy heard, he did not react to her, but instead, continues to stare wide-eyed at Red.

"How can I ever repay you?"

Red's grin is too wide to be a friendly one. "I'm sure we'll think of something."

* * *

**Elli at the Post Office**

* * *

The next evening when I am packing up to leave for the day, I stop by Agent Keen's office to deliver some documents she'll need for her profiling work. I see the door is open, and I knock on the side of the doorframe before walking in. Her head snaps up, and I see tears rolling down her porcelain skin in black streaks of smudged eyeliner and mascara.

"I-I didn't think anyone was still here," she stutters as she gets up quickly while wiping her face on her sleeve.

"Agent Keen?" I say, alarmed at how utterly distraught she looks. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, really. It's just stuff Red helped me with," she says, her voice cracking as more tears fall freely. "I..I don't even know what to think about it."

"Then may I suggest you simply go to the source and ask him yourself?" I reply, trying my best to sound as gentle as possible.

I watch as Elizabeth looks up at me with pleading blue eyes. "I can drive, if you'd like...err, only if you can give me directions to wherever Red's staying," I say swiftly in the hopes she doesn't realize I know exactly where he is living at the moment.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

"I got some information...about T-Tom, my husband," she says to me while I'm driving to Red's safe-house. Her voice is scratchy and raw from crying. "Don't think you two have met."

"I remember seeing a picture of him in your office," I reply as I turn the music I had on earlier to a lower volume so that I can hear her quiet voice.

"Don't worry, Red'll know what to do," I add solemnly.

I hand her yet another tissue and she blows her nose. "Seems everyone at the Bureau is always so eager to put me and Red together on all of these cases. All it's done to this point is cause problems in my life and in my marriage."

The leather seat she's sitting on squeaks as she shifts in place. "We used to be so happy."

_Ugh, I suck at stuff like this_, I think to myself as I keep my eyes focused on the road so that I do not have to look at her in the face.

"I don't know Tom, but I do know that you're one hell of an agent who does amazing work. You've changed so many lives for the better ever since you've started at the Post Office. Don't stop now just when things get tough."

I get the feeling that what I said was not comforting enough so I try again. "And who knows...maybe whatever is happening in your marriage will blow over soon."

Luckily, I am now pulling up to Red's place, and I hope that he's better at consoling her than I am.

"Do you need a ride back?" I ask as I keep the engine running.

Her expression is puzzled as she looks at me. "You're not coming in?"

"Nah, it's an 'A' and 'B' conversation, so I'll just 'C' my way out of here."

There's a pause that hangs in the air before Elizabeth laughs at the terrible joke. She sniffs loudly and wipes a tissue across her face one last time before getting out of the car. "I haven't heard that one since high school," she says and speaks to me one last time before she shuts the door.

"Thanks again, Eleanor."

* * *

**Elizabeth and Red at the Safe-house**

* * *

Agent Keen accepts a mug of what Red calls some sort of "distilled liquor," and sits on the opposite end of the couch from him. She listens as he talks about the view from the couch being his favorite thing about the house, but she doesn't reply right away.

"I don't even know why I'm here," she says softly, her eyes filling with tears again.

They sit without saying a word to each other, and Elizabeth takes comfort in the easy silence.

Luli walks in later with a large file in her hand and whispers something in Red's ear before leaving the two of them alone again. He then faces Agent Keen once more.

"So Elli brought you to me, did she?"

Elizabeth nods in confirmation. "Eleanor Simon, she's a- - -"

"_Simon_," Red interrupts her by repeating the name slowly, "It's a French name, Lizzie."_  
_

She blinks as her mind shifts its focus, and she sets her glass down on the table in front of her. "Wait, why are you calling her Elli like that?"

"The same reason people call you Lizzie and not Elizabeth," Red replies nonchalantly.

The woman eyes him warily. "I asked if she was coming inside, but she said she had something to do."

He clears his throat and folds his hands on his lap. "Call her back, I have something for her."

Elizabeth folds her arms and stares at Red sternly. "Would this 'something' be similar to what you sent me about Tom?"

Red kisses his teeth on the side of his mouth. "That's a possibility."

"Why would Elli need anything from you? How do you two even _know_ each other?"

"Do you like cornbread?" Red replies suddenly as he gets up to leave the room, "One of the staples found in various Southern cuisines that I could eat by the truckload. I'll get you a piece of it while you make that call."

Red opens the set of files as soon as he enters the kitchen, his face paling as he sifts through the papers. While gaining access to the NSA database was indeed a "one time thing" as he told Grey, Red conveniently left out the part where he had the boy look up something else for him as well.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

"That's weird, she must have turned her phone off since leaving," Elizabeth says to Red when he comes back into the room.

Red's eyes deaden at her words. "No."

He calls Dembe and Luli into the room quickly and addresses the entire group. "We need to find Elli- - -_now_."

* * *

They rush to the hotel where Elli had been staying, but once they get to the room, they notice the door slightly ajar. Dembe, Luli, Agent Keen, and Red all sweep the room in a grid-like fashion and they find her purse, keys and ID still there. A desk-lamp lay broken on the floor, but other than that, there appears to be no signs of a serious struggle.

"He's taken her," Red growls as he finds Elli's cane shoved under the bed.

"Red, who could've possibly done this?" Agent Keen inquires, her brows knit together in angry concentration.

"He's known as 'The Corrector' to people like me," he says, his eyes fixated on the cane in his hands. "I never did know what he looked like before having a run-in with him recently. He must be getting sloppy."

He turns on his heels and flies out of the room with the rest of the group following closely behind him. "We need to hurry. We still have time to save her before the Corrector tortures her to death."

* * *

**Elli and The Corrector**

* * *

The last thing I remember is opening the door to my hotel room before a rag is shoved into my face. I struggle as I inhale something that burns my lungs and then a blackness envelops my consciousness.

I wake up to find myself chained to a table and stripped down to my undergarments. I feel myself panicking, but I try to take deep breaths to alleviate the debilitating effects panic has on the mind. If I panic, I know I won't be able to think- - -and if I can't think, I can't escape.

My shackles clank together when I crane my neck to see someone who is now addressing me. "I always know where to find you," a masculine voice echoes from the darkness. "And now that I have you, I'm gunna' make you tell me where I can find your friend, too."

"I have no friends- - -you always made sure of that, _Bert_."

He approaches me and leans in close to my face with a twisted smile on his lips. "I'm sure I can loosen you tongue in time, and then you'll be more than happy to talk about your dear Reddington."

My eyes narrow in a leer. _First Aunt Lil, and now...Red...?_

I spit in his face, an action that had never felt more natural.

"You're going to wish you never got on my bad side, Impy," he threatens as he wipes his face clean with a cloth.

I see Bert digging through a chest in the corner, and afterwards, he walks over to me once more with what looks like a large beaker and a pipette of equal size.

"Now, I'm not very good at chemistry," he drawls with his thick accent as he fills the pipette with the liquid, "But, I'm curious to test out a little experiment."

He hovers the pipette over my lower stomach and my heart races so fast it makes my chest hurt. Bert squeezes the liquid over my skin and I writhe underneath my shackles, screaming as a sizzling sound reverberates off of the walls of the warehouse I'm being held in.

"Would you look at that-t-t," he sings as he fills the pipette again, "seems like we have an acid on our hands."

"Shall we try again, or are you ready to spill the beans about Reddington or perhaps even the lovely Agent Keen?"

I grit my teeth as I breathe heavily in and out of my nose.

"Fuck you."

His face crinkles in fury. "Wrong answer."

He squeezes the acid in large drops over the other side of my lower abdomen, and my wails overshadow the sound of acid on flesh.

_No matter what you do to me, Bert, I'll never let you take anyone else away from me as long as I breathe on this Earth..._


	7. Past the Pain

**A/N: Here's a little update since I'll be away for a week after Christmas. RL is still busy, but this piece kept itching to be written, so here it is. Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed thus far. Your support is greatly appreciated and keeps me smiling! Also, a shout-out to ****FeliciaFelicis who has helped me so much with the story~ :D**

**PS. I base Red's appearance in the flashback on James Spader in "Stargate" which I have watched for the first time recently. xD**

**This chapter's also violent, so I thought I'd warn you just in case.**

**I've also gone back and updated the synopsis and titled the chapters. Yay!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Episode 5: The Courier (No. 85); The Corrector (No. 35)**

_"A few years ago, some of my associates encountered the Courier in an opium den in Cairo. He killed two of them"_\- Reddington

* * *

The cuffs keeping me on this table dig unforgivingly into my skin as I struggle against the restraints. I roll my head over to look at the grimy windows at the very top of the building I am being held at only to realize not much time had passed at all. Maybe an hour, two at tops had transpired, yet it feels like I have been here for an eternity.

I grunt when I feel a hand slapping my face, and I taste the bitterness of blood in my mouth. "Care to give in now, or should I beat it out of you some more?"

I ache from the the wounds from the previous acid attack which are now weeping blood and fluids every time I inhale. With every breath, the skin tears around the hole-like injuries, making them bigger, more grotesque. Despite all this, I refuse to look at Bert. _You'd have to kill me before I even think about revealing Red to you._

The punches to my gut echo with a sickeningly wet sound mingled with the warbles of my cries. My face is next to be assaulted, and soon I am left with a busted lip and a swollen eye. Bert is now panting, wiping his sweaty brow on the sleeve of his shirt. Just before he is about to swing his fists in my direction again, his phone vibrates in his pocket, and he lets out a shout in frustration as he stomps over to the table where he has the acid container and pipettes spread out.

"Yes, Baker speaking," he says in a hushed voice. There is several seconds of Bert nodding his head and grumbling what sound like agreements.

I then see him walking over to the far end of the room and into the shadows.

"Yes, it's right here," he replies and I hear a big thud of wood on concrete as Bert rummages for something I can't see. "The whole thing?" He asks before standing up to walk to me once more.

"Got it," he says as he presses the "end" button on his phone with a sinister grin.

"It must be Christmas for me, Impy," Bert says as he holds a syringe filled with a kind of orange-red liquid. "Boss wants me to do two experiments in one day!"

My mind screeches to a halt as I look up at the man. "Got yourself a sweet sugar-daddy, do you? No worries Bert, I won't judge you on who you're bonkin', male or female- - -"

"SHUT IT!" He says, slapping me with so much force my teeth vibrate. "G- - -my boss is of no concern to you!"

_So damn close_, I think to myself as I spit blood onto the floor at my feet. _At least I now know he didn't act on his own in this._

Bert situates himself next to me and takes the cover off of the needle with his teeth. He sticks me in the arm, and I watch wide-eyed as the liquid is drained. He then goes over to the table where the acid vial and pipettes are sitting.

"Already out of the first batch?" He comments as he glares in my direction. "I'll have to mix up some more, and then we'll see how willing you are to talk after I get done. But by then, you'll probably be screaming for me to end your life instead."

I strain against the metal holding me down as an uncomfortable heat creeps up my arm. "What the hell did you put in me!?"

Bert skulks over to what appears to be a blank, dingy wall. "Not one to remember fancy names and all that...I'm just curious to see if it lives up to its black market name of 'Liquid Insanity,'" he replies before pushing up against the side of the wall until it gives under the pressure only to close behind him moments later.

I yank at my shackles as soon as he is out of sight, looking for a weak point or something I could use to break free. I scream as I try to force my hands out from their constraints. Even if I have to break every bone in my hand, I find myself willing to do it if it means I can escape with my life.

That's when I _feel_ it...whatever it is...coursing through my body like a thousand burning needles in my veins. I try to take a breath in, but my lungs feel like they are being stabbed with a knife- - - _repeatedly_. Sweat begins to pour down my face and every inch the sweat moves, every drop that forms, is agonizing. It's like the worst sunburn I've ever experienced only times tenfold.

I shriek to block out the pain, and I don't stop shrieking until my voice gives out. But my window of opportunity is quickly shut when Bert returns.

"So noisy," he says when he reaches me. He digs in his pocket to retrieve a cloth which he then rolls and ties at the back of my head, making it impossible for me to speak. I bite down on the fabric as my muffled yells fail to leave my raw throat.

"Yeah, sorry Boss...yeah, let me go out to get a better signal. I think the serum's working..."

He disappears behind the false wall again, and I am left alone. Several moments pass and all I hear is the muted sound of their conversation.

_Boom! _A sound with so much force it makes the chains that bind me rattle like a wind-chime in the breeze. I hear a series of noises that sound like shouting and the scuffling of feet before everything falls silent.

_Someone...here? Now?_

I take as much of the cloth in between my teeth and thrash my head from side to side to try and loosen the knot at the back of my head that's keeping my gag in place. The simple movement only adds to the excruciating suffering, and my head swims.

* * *

**Red, Agent Keen, Luli, and Dembe **

* * *

Red, Agent Keen and the rest of the group find the warehouse after raiding Bert's last safe-house found from clues left at Elli's hotel room. They hurl through the doors and ambush Bert as he is on the phone. Dembe tackles the man to the ground and dazes him while Agent Keen quickly binds the man's hands and feet together with rope they had brought with them.

"Bert, Bert, Bert," Red sings as he shakes his head in disapproval, "Whatever will I do with you?" He lugs the man into a chair and proceeds to tie another piece of rope around the chair to secure him.

"Search the room, she should still be here," Red says to Luli and Dembe who waste no time exploring the building. Agent Keen remains by Red's side, her blue eyes alert for anything else that may come their way while they are out in the open.

"Very few people have had the phenomenal luck of remaining alive after I've deliberately tried ending them. So for that I say- - - _bravo,_" Red comments while clapping slowly in mock applause.

Something catches Red's eye and he picks it up off of the floor. He then faces Bert with an enormous grin on his face before approaching him. Bert flinches when Red bends down while readying the box cutter he had retrieved. Delicately, Red then cuts the fabric at the thigh level of Bert's pant leg. "I feel so sorry for the crocodile who has had to spend its memory living on through these terrible pants. Here's a tip: animal skin will _never_ be in style."

He jerks at the tear he's made along the fabric and the right pant leg rips off from Bert without resistance. Red tuts as he examines the weapon in his grip. "This box cutter seems _much_ too sharp to be safe," he says, wandering around and spotting a shelf with other tools and trinkets on it. Taking a pocket knife from the shelf, Red flicks his wrist to expose the blade and presses it against his palm. He returns to Bert, squatting down so that he is eye level with the man.

Red smiles, and Bert laughs back nervously.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

His screams of agony reverberate off of the walls, and when Red straightens up again, there is a huge, bloody split down Bert's leg from his thigh down to the middle of his calf.

"Well _that_ was tiresome," Red says with a huff as he leers at the man writhing in pain in front of him, "but I guess it's good to know that blunt objects really can get the job done just as good, if not better, than a sharp one."

"You'll never find her," Bert spews angrily with a jerk of his head at the multiple beakers of acid sitting on a tray nearby. "And even if you did, I doubt you'd want that piece of ass after the acid's done its fine work on her...doubt that anyone would after today."

Red stands there, staring at the man in silence, his eyes so dark they look black He saunters over to one of the supply cabinets lining the walls and puts on a pair of protective gloves before joining Bert. He picks up an acid beaker and examines it under the warehouse's artificial light. Although his lips barely move, everyone in that warehouse hears him speaking just as clear as if he had been shouting from the rooftop of the tallest building in DC.

"I'm only going to give you until 3 to tell me where you've hidden her."

Red nods his head and his lips thin when Bert doesn't answer.

"Three."

He dumps the acid onto the man's mauled leg before anyone could say otherwise.

"GAH! Stop, you devil! Stop! Anywhere but there!" Bert howls loudly amidst the sound of burning flesh.

"Anywhere?" Red growls before forcing Bert's mouth open like an animal.

Agent Keen looks away as Bert chokes down acid until he begins foaming at the mouth and shaking wildly in his seat. Red sets the empty glass down carefully, not wanting to get any on himself or his clothes. Bert flails like a spider that has just been doused in bug-spray, but Red does not react to the display.

"If I didn't despise the man so much, I could have given him a much quicker death, sadly," Red says as he straightens out his suit jacket.

"Do we know he's dead?" Dembe asks as he kicks Bert's foot idly when the body stops twitching.

"Good question," Red says enthusiastically before taking his gun out and shooting Bert between the eyes. "He is now."

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

"That's the second time you've killed a man with chemicals," Agent Keen says under her breath, but loud enough so that Red hears her. "Don't you have any sense of restraint? Or maybe killing just makes you happy?"

Red scans the room while Luli is busy checking Bert's pockets. "You know, the two of you would get along _swimmingly_\- - - what with your frosty wit and her Southern charm. I bet you'll be exchanging makeup tips and sex positions over a plate of beignets faster than you can say Bourbon Street."

Elizabeth arches a wary eyebrow at Red in slight confusion. By now, she's grown quite used to the man jumping off topic when it suited him. "Who do you mean?"

"Elli, of course- - - assuming that our dear friend here has not done away with her already," Red replies with a laugh.

Elizabeth studies the man intensely, watching while Luli holds up a key she's found on Bert's body. Something about his forced laughter makes the agent believe Red was not telling her the whole story about his connection to Eleanor- - -not that this would be the first time he's hidden something from her.

"Search the area from top to bottom," Red orders everyone as he twirls a finger in the air to indicate the entire space. "Leave nothing unturned."

* * *

**Elli**

* * *

I look around the room, but the fluorescent lights scorch my eyes. I think I hear the sound of voices on the other end of the wall, and I try to call out to whoever may be there. The towel that had been used to silence me finally loosens around my mouth, but all I can do is moan.

_They could be bad...more people sent to t-torture...?_

My body convulses involuntarily like a fire that's been lit in me. I'm afraid of the voices, and I try with all of my strength to get away when I hear the wall of the false door scraping open. A shadow lingers in my vision now, and I have the inexplicable sense that someone is hovering over me._  
_

_Click_. The sound of my left shackle being unlocked is like a symphony to my ears.

_Escape...must...escape..._

_Click._ My freed fists connect with soft tissue and a new flowering spasm ruptures through my hands as I roll off of the table, clawing at the ground on all fours to get away. Am I going forward? Backward? Left or right? I don't know...I just know I need to keep moving.

Suddenly, I am blindsided and my body crumples onto the ground. A weight holds me down, and I wrestle against the pressure with every fiber of my being.

_I am going to die here...this is it..._

My mind flickers through a series of images instead of actual thoughts: I see Aunt Lil's sweet smile, the way Luli wiggles her eyebrows when she is being mischievous, Dembe's silent expressions of emotions.

I am tired...so tired of the pain. Dying would be an escape, and I am hoping that whoever has me in their power now has the decency to get it over with quickly.

My arms are pinned against my chest. Colors swirl into one another, and I gasp for air as my blood feels like it's boiling underneath my skin.

"Hold her feet!" I hear a voice calling, but it all sounds muddled to my ears. My legs are now incapable of moving as another weight grips them firmly and sends my skin flaring.

I try to mutter to whoever has me captured to just kill me now. Just make sure I'm dead, that's all I ask.

My mind is like a tv channel of white noise. A picture then comes into focus: I see green eyes crinkling at the corners when happy, lighting up when telling a story...becoming like moss on a tree when saddened. I would never see them again...those beautiful green eyes I had grown to love. I would never see Raymond Reddington again and he would never see me.

"RAY-Y!" I manage to wail out loudly in a hoarse voice that no longer sounds like my own.

"Hush now, Sweetheart," his voice says to me gently.

This must be what it's like when people hallucinate about the ones they care for just before death takes them. I stop struggling and wait for a peace I am convinced will come soon.

I feel a sharp stab in my neck, and within seconds my muscles relax and the mind-numbing fire in my body lessens.

A hand is now on my forehead just as my eyelids become too heavy for me to keep them open.

"She's burning up, we need to get her to a hospital- - -"

I embrace the darkness that engulfs me like an old friend.

* * *

**Day 1-Day 2**

* * *

_Beep...beep...beep...heaven sounds an awful lot like a heartbeat monitor. At least I'm no longer in pain..._

* * *

**Day 3**

* * *

_Someone's speaking...sounds like Arabic and some other language I don't know. Sure is pretty, even if it does sound sad..._

* * *

**Day 4-5**

* * *

"If you don't get your ass here and do your job, I'll make sure you get the shittiest shifts for a year."

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

"What do you mean we can't bring blankets from home? She's losing half of her body weight because you're keeping it like a goddamn igloo in here...Incompetent idiots."

_...Luli...? _

* * *

**Day 7**

* * *

There's a hand interlaced with mine, and a voice that utters the lyrics to a song I know all too well as if it were a prayer:

_Regrets, I've had a few_  
_But then again, too few to mention_  
_I did what I had to do and saw it through without exemption_  
_I planned each charted course, each careful step along the byway_  
_And more, much more than this, I did it my way_

_Red...Red's here with me...don't leave Red, please don't leave..._

I hear the scraping of a chair as his melodious voice carries through the hospital in a request for a nurse to come right away.

My eyes flutter open, and I see those green eyes again.

Red's lips linger on my forehead in a slow kiss. "Hello, Elli."

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

I see Red's gaze fixating on my wrists, and I glance at the purple bruises adorning them. I realize Red must have been the one who had straddled me and held my arms to my chest. I am now fully alert and sitting up while Red sits by me in bed.

"If you hadn't done what you needed to do to calm me, I could've killed myself or you," I shudder at the thought.

I see something familiar at the edge of the bed and I smile instantly- - - six blankets of all colors and shapes are covering me like a cocoon. I decide to change the subject.

"You remembered my fondness for blankets...why am I not surprised. How did you get into my apartment, let alone know which box I had packed them up in?"

Red grins. "I got the key from your lovely land-lady, but don't worry, all of your things are intact."

My eyes focus in concentration at the remark. "I thought she was selling the place?"

"She did, to Bert," he replies, "But seeing as he is no longer with us, I took it upon myself to purchase the quaint place."

He smooths a errant strand of hair away from my face. "You're hesitant to go back to the place where so many things happened to you, I understand," Red interprets my averted gaze with ease. "I propose a trade then- - -my writer's house for your apartment? We can always switch back later if you'd like."

I smile, the writer's home had always been a personal favorite of mine. It soon fades when I think about it, however. "Is my place safe enough for you?"

He chuckles and shakes his head as he looks at me. "You have remarkably sharp instincts to hide from Bert for so long, it's perfect for my purposes for the time being."

I nod my head in agreement, and Red gets up and puts his sunglasses back on just as I see Luli and Dembe standing in the doorway.

"Great, I love a good deal in the morning!"

Red quickly leaves us to talk, and Luli is by my side in seconds.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

"I...I punched you in the nose?!"

"Like I was a damn Tiger shark," Luli replies with a laugh as she tucks the blankets around my sides to keep me warm. "Dembe and I think that with a little training, you could be one tough shit-storm to be crossed."

I can't help but laugh at what a strange scene that would make. "I'll take you up on that."

We chat for a few minutes while Dembe guards the door. She fills me in on the various things going on at the Post Office as well as a new Italian place she wants to take me out for celebratory drinks once I'm back at home. But soon, their phones buzz, and she informs me that they are needed on a job elsewhere with Red. I wave my goodbyes and Luli heads for the door.

"Oh, Dembe?" I call to the man.

He pivots on his heels, and I see Luli smiling before continuing to walk down the hall.

"I heard your words to me while I was lying in bed," I say slowly, trying to gauge his expression.

His face remains emotionless and his eyes unblinking as he waits for me to speak again.

"It was beautiful...I was wondering if I could get it in print? I'd very much like to carry it around with me."

It was then that he gives me the first full smile I had ever seen on him. I smile back when he nods before he turns to catch up with his partner.

* * *

I am released from the hospital a week later, but I tell no one of my discharge. There's a nervous lump in my throat, and I know that I'm following an all too familiar pattern. I know deep down that I am doing myself no favors by always running away from things that make me uncomfortable or embarrassed. Even Agent Keen had been in to see me in that hospital, but I could not bring myself to face anyone. I grip my cane for support and hurry to my newest place of residence, hoping that Red would not seek me out. I go back to work, but refuse to work at the Post Office for a week while avoiding anyone from that place, including Red.

_I can't keep getting him and everyone else in life and death situations every time I turn around. It's better for everyone if they just forget I existed altogether..._

* * *

It is now evening when I unlock the door to the writer's home. I turn on several lamps to illuminate the area as I examine my surroundings. The main areas are still cozily cluttered with books and manuscripts, but the kitchen and bedrooms are all tidy due to the fact that boredom puts me in a cleaning mood. I set to work in starting a fire, and in no time at all, the room is aglow with warm light. I head into the room I am using as my sleeping quarters and grab a tube of ointment from atop a wooden dresser. I stand in front of a floor-length, antique mirror and study my figure in the reflection. I sigh sadly as I ready myself to perform my nightly ritual so that my acid burns would heal properly.

I jump when I hear a voice calling out to me from the main room. "Elli?"

"I-I'm back here, Red," I squeak in response, "I'll be out in a second."

_Of course Red would have kept a key for himself..._

I freeze when I see the man in the mirror standing in the doorway to my room.

"You've been avoiding me," he says simply as he advances towards me.

How I've missed the low timbre of his voice- - - it soothes and excites me simultaneously. My eyes close slowly as his words echo in my mind.

Red walks up to me, takes the ointment from my hands, and squeezes some of the product onto his palms. Wordlessly, he rubs his hands together and all I can hear is the sound of my breath. He steps around me until he blocks the mirror, and I can no longer deny his presence. Our eyes lock, and we stand there for a time, staring at one another.

He reaches for me slowly and unbuttons my blouse from the bottom up, leaving me modestly covered while still revealing the effects of the acid attack.

My mind kicks into overdrive as his eyes linger on my increasingly exposed flesh. If this had been another time, _any_ other time before the incident, I would have welcomed the display eagerly. Instead, I shiver under his gaze.

_I don't want him to see the scars..._

He steps closer to me.

_I don't want him to recoil in disgust..._

I shift to the side to watch his actions from the reflection in the floor length mirror behind Red.

"Please..." It's all I can say before I look away.

But Red's touch is feather soft on my body, and I feel my muscles relaxing as he rubs my stomach in large, circular motions. I exhale slowly, my shoulders releasing tension as they lower at my sides.

His hands then wander down to grasp my own, slowly bringing them to the bottom of his white, cotton shirt. With his hands over mine, he guides me so that I am taking it off. I stand on my toes slightly as the piece of clothing goes over his head, and soon, it falls to the floor at our feet. I find my mind shifting as I stare at his bare body- - - from his wide, strong shoulders to the gentle sloping curves of toned muscle. I watch as his abdomen rises and falls with each breath, and I can't help this yearning I have in the pit of my stomach.

But before my fingertips touch his skin, Red wraps me in his arms suddenly, his embrace tight and warm. I throw my arms around his neck, and my eyes catch the mirror in front of us.

I gasp as Red buries his face in the curve of my neck to press his lips to my ear.

"Do you see," he whispers, his voice so low I had only heard him speak this way a few times before, "Do you see why you never need to hide yourself from me?"

My fingers run down Red's back, roaming over the cracks and crevices of pink scar tissue that covers his body in a morbid cloak of skin. I close my eyes and let my sense of touch overtake everything else. I hold him without a word, and my hands travel over him like a person devoid of sight reading a work of poetry in braille. He holds me in equal measure, his large hands tangled in my curls as if I were but a doll he did not wish to part with.

We hold each other, breathing as two people sharing one soul in desperate need of the healing power of human warmth.

I tighten my embrace and he reciprocates before we break apart once more, separated but each understanding our unspoken truths.

* * *

"Will you tell me how you got involved in all of this...how you and Bert know each other?" I say quietly as I re-button my blouse a moment later.

"I wasn't thinking all those years before...I just wanted revenge. And revenge makes people do stupid things."

Red walks over to a closet, takes out a robe, and ties it loosely around his waist.

"Something happened to me many Christmases ago, but I will leave that for another time and place to tell," Red says as he sits down by my side on the bed. "Suffice it to say, my family was gone and I had a score to settle."

I shift so that I am sitting closer to him, and he responds by lightly stroking my leg with his thumb. "I had...associates I had known for many years since my time working for the other side of the fence. You may find it impossible to believe, but I didn't always start out as a criminal mastermind."

I give him an amused smile.

"They agreed to help me track my enemy down, at whatever the cost," Red continues in a low voice, "because that's what they did...they _tracked_ people down. And my god, were they good at it- - - they even taught me a thing or two about the tricks of the trade given the fact that they were older than me. They were good people..._loyal _people. You don't find that combination too often anymore."

I sit in silence as I watch his expression change subtly in the dim light of the room. "The next I heard from them, they were getting close to finding out the identity and whereabouts of him, and it was only a matter of time before I would be able to turn the tables. So I...I pushed them, pressured them to see this thing through. It's something I'm not proud of, because not a day later, I received information that their cover had been blown, and a group of people known as "Correctors" had been sent to take care of them. Our dearly departed Bert was a high ranking person within the organization."

I sit up at the mention of the name. "What exactly does this organization do, and why are they here now?"

"The Correctors, much like my Mr. Kaplan, are a group of people sent in to 'tie up loose ends' by any means necessary. Whereas Mr. Kaplan simply cleans up after me, so to speak, these 'Correctors' are much more hands-on in their approach. They will kill and steal from their own mothers without any of it tracing back to their employer if the pay was high enough. I have a few theories as to why they're here and who's hired them, and none of them are pleasant. At the present moment, we can do nothing but watch the cards as they fall and deal with the situation when we come to it."

I sigh in disgust as Red continues. "But to return to the story at hand, when I got there, two of them had my people bound and were torturing them, but I quickly put an end to that. My associates needed to be moved quickly, but they informed me that there was one member of their family that was still out in the woods, having escaped despite the odds. I found the last of the men there just as he had picked up a blood trail. I killed him quickly, and I continued to follow this path through the woods until I came upon a girl."

He turns in his seat to look at me properly, and I find myself hanging on his every whispered word.

"Her brown eyes, they looked like a baby deer, so round and frightened...and her hair was just as wild as the place we were in. Her leg was mangled and yet there she was- - - this small, fiery thing of a girl, clinging on _desperately_ to life."

He chuckles and I see his eyes shining as he meets my gaze. "You threw a rock at my head."

Images flash before my mind's eye: blood spilling out to stain frozen leaves and twigs, the loud crunches my feet made as I dragged myself out of harm's way- - -all of it still seems hazy and cluttered in my consciousness.

"Wouldn't I have recognized you? Known you from the first day you helped me find my way to the FBI building?"

Red shakes his head. "We put you under some very heavy nitrous oxide, so there would have been no way you could have recognized me since I had a bandana covering everything from the eyes down when you saw me," he shrugs with a cluck of his tongue. "What can I say, even I have made fashion blunders in the past."

My heart thrums in my ears as I try to make sense of what Red is telling me. "I don't remember any of this...did I say anything to you? Anything at all?"

Red smiles fondly at me, looking at me with softened eyes. "You told me that all I would need is a 'very dapper hat', and then I'd look like Clark Kent, if I recall correctly."

My mind sparks at the comment- - -I see the sight of a man whose face I can not make out, and a large hand being extended to me as I hid in the hollow of a massive tree.

I tilt my head to the side while trying to keep the tears from falling. In my entire life, I could count on one hand the number of times I've cried. And yet, ever since meeting Red, I have been given plenty of reasons to do so. Only this time- - -this time my eyes are wet with happy tears.

"You..." I whisper, my eyes squinting at him, "_You're_ the reason I remember that song...you were playing Sinatra in the plane, weren't you?"

I smile when Red nods slowly. Reaching up, I run my fingers through his short hair and down his neck as the memory fizzles into a somewhat clearer picture.

"Your hair was a lot longer...and you had glasses, too."

I caress Red's face, my eyes wavering back and forth. My hands explore him like I have never felt something so wonderful in my life, and my smile gets wider; yet my eyes still threaten to overflow. I want to cry and I want to laugh at the same time, my mind reeling with joy and happiness.

"Can I-I- - -" my voice breaks as I move closer to him.

I last thing I see before closing my eyes is Red's upturned mouth. "You don't have to ask."

I capture his lips with mine, and I pour everything into a kiss- - -all of the thanks I feel for saving me from Bert, the gratitude I had known my whole life stemming from the fact that I had survived that horrifying event in my young life, and the overwhelming warmth I feel in my heart when I see Red now. My hands hold his face still as my lips speak for me in their silent devotion to the man whose path has crossed mine so many times through the years. As we break away, I rest my head on his shoulder.

He begins to toy with the ends of my curls as his musings continue. "They must have moved you to Texas because the next time I tried finding you in Washington at the orphanage I had sent you to, they told me they had no record of your even being there. Bert most likely found you years later and was biding his time before he could strike...it was left to his responsibility to close the job."

Red looks out of the window for a few moments before adding. "Although he probably kept his distance and simply collected information once he found out you were being hired by the FBI."

"And my parents?" I ask in a whisper.

"I moved them to Cairo where they stayed hidden for a while. They continued to do jobs for me until they ran into the Courier in an opium den near one of my safe-houses. He thought he had been double-crossed," Red looks down and takes my hand in his to give it a light squeeze. "He killed them both, and that's the reason the Courier was on the Blacklist. I'm very sorry, Elli...if I would have known they were your parents, I would have worked on it earlier."

I squeeze his hand back and smile. "My parents have always been dead to me...the only thing that's changed is how they died. I'm just glad the man responsible is gone, too. My next priority, however, is finding out who hired Bert so I can finally close this chapter of my life once and for all."

Red rises from the bed and goes over to the chair where his suit jacket is draped over the back. "I have something for you," he says as he searches in one of the pockets. I see him pull out a small key, and I stand up to walk over to him as curiosity overtakes me. Red looks me sternly in the eye and there's a seriousness in his voice when he addresses me again. "It's a gift from your parents to you- - -should you choose to go through with your plans. I don't know what's in this deposit box, but your mother mailed this to me a month before they were killed. Maybe she always knew how it would turn out for her...she had a sixth-sense for these sorts of things."

It still made my head spin to hear him speaking about my parents in such a personal manner, yet I nod in understanding nonetheless. But, Red holds the key out of my reach when I go to grab it.

"There's no turning back once you go down this path."

I meet his eyes with steely resolution of my own. I am no longer allowing myself to be a victim of anything or anyone for as long as I live. I intend on working toward that goal starting today.

"You can't expect me to take this sitting down, Red. Bert and the people that hired him need to see that there are consequences for their actions."

He hands me the key and smiles unabashed. "Welcome to my world, Elli."

I turn the key over and look at the numbers. I feel alive in that moment, like my life is moving forward and onto bigger and better things. There is no way I can go to sleep now with such a clue within my grasp. I grab my purse, cane and coat and head for the door in excitement. "Gotta' go if I'm going to do this, or else I'll chicken out." I say to Red.

"Good," he replies as he watches me pass him on the way to the door.

"Oh and for future reference, just assume that whatever it is you wish to do to me in terms of this- - -" he pulls me close and kisses me hard, his tongue flicking over my lips swiftly before pulling away just as suddenly "- - -that the answer will always be a resounding 'yes' on my part."

Red flies out of the door in an exit worthy of a theatre production, leaving me seeing stars as I stand there in the middle of my bedroom, dumbfounded.

_Wow, that was...wow._

I drop my things and sit back down on my bed, and I run my fingers along my lips as his kiss replays in my mind over and over.

_Wait, I thought _**I **_was the one_ leaving?

Typical Red, never one to simply walk out of a room like any other normal person.

And I loved him all the more for it.


	8. Conflicting Emotions (p1)

**A/N: It sure has been a while since I've updated this little story, and I'm very sorry for the wait! Writer's block hit me like a ton of bricks, so here's an extra long chapter for you! Part 2 is coming soon!**

**Bucketfuls of character interactions, a heaping helping of fluffiness, and a sprinkle of puzzles for Elli. Just a reminder: I'm going through the story episode by episode, so re-watch the corresponding episode listed to see dialogue/tie-ins with the show. This part is in between episodes 5/6. Also, I am not from the DC/Boston area, so any discrepancy in the story is just chalked up to it being an Alternate Universe setting, yes? ^.^;;**

**Enjoy, and please be kind as I am still struggling with writer's block!**

**Chapter Song: Save Me by Muse**

**Warning: slight profanity ahead!**

* * *

I sit on the old bed in the room that I call mine for the time being. I am still, my mind replaying only one thing- - -

Red's kiss.

My fingers trace my lips as I struggle against the impulse to chase after Raymond Reddington, pin him against a wall, and taste every inch of him with my mouth. My purse and cane remain at my feet, and I look down at the safety deposit box key that Red gave me before he left. What little happiness churns in the depths of my heart is squelched as my mind settles to face the reality of my current situation. My smile fades.

_Aunt Lil_...

A pang of guilt stabs at my chest, and I mentally chastise myself for my actions.

_After everything that's happened...I can't think like this. I have a job to do. I need to figure out what it is my mother wanted me to know. I have to find every last Corrector and make sure they pay for what they did to me, to Mom and Dad...and to Aunt Lil, too..._

The ancient radiator heater in the back of the house moans its reluctance to turn on for the evening, causing me to glance at a nearby clock.

_Midnight..._

I toss the key in my hand up and down. "188209 P-M-B-R-L-Y," I read the engravings on the key aloud into the empty room.

"Looks like whatever you wanted me to find will have to wait until tomorrow, Mom."

I get up and ready myself for bed, only falling into a restless sleep after I put framed pictures of my family on the bedside table.

_Every last one of you is gone, but not forgotten. I promise._

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

The old alarm clock screeches its morning greeting, and I reply by slapping the stupid thing onto the floor. I fling off the blanket I had cocooned myself in during the night only to wrap myself in another fluffy blanket to shuffle towards the closet without tripping. Wiping the sand out of my eyes with an undignified yawn, I see a maroon tie folded neatly on a shelf with cufflinks sitting atop the tie. I allow myself a small smile at the thought of Red using this house as his own getaway as well before turning my attention to my own attire.

I eventually decide on a grey-knit, paperboy hat for the day along with a pearl brooch I had inherited from my aunt. I complete the look with a white, cotton turtleneck, grey peacoat, jeans and Red's cashmere scarf wrapped around my neck.

I warm up some instant oatmeal for breakfast, stirring the hot cereal in a pretty, ceramic bowl lined with dainty roses around the rim. Tomorrow I go back to work after the incident with Bert, but I'm already getting a headache just thinking about the mounds and mounds of backlogged work I have waiting for me.

* * *

Doing a search on my phone locates three locker businesses and safety deposit boxes that fit the letters on the key. Grabbing my cane and smoothing out my curly hair that I didn't even bother to straighten, I escape from the warm confines of the Writer's House to brave the biting freeze that shocks me.

Getting to the first location of lockers is not an issue as it is near the Boston Public Garden. Unfortunately, once I inquire about renting a box, I realize that the key in my possession is nothing like the keys given to customers. Added to this is the fact that the storage facility had only been in operation for under five years also proved that this is not the place I am looking for. I say my thanks and venture forward to find the next set of lockers.

The second place on the list proves to be an ill fit as well- - -their security boxes require access cards, not actual keys. With one place left to check out, I am beginning to think my search is all for nothing. Wasting no time, I let my phone guide me to the street of the last location.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

I look around, spotting a bakery and a laundromat along a nearly deserted street. An older man greets me while sweeping the space in front of his magazine stand. "Buy somethin', Lass?"

I smile warmly (or as warmly as I could, given the weather's colder than the Arctic Circle), but tell him I'm a little short on cash. He watches me for a time while I walk up and down the street front where the safety deposit boxes should have been. Finally, I turn back to the man and ask, "Excuse me, has there ever been a storage facility around here?"

The man stops sweeping and rubs his back for a moment, looking at me properly from where he's standing. He points to a narrow side street and replies, "Back there, little lass. Or what's left of em'."

I thank the man for his help and soon, I'm standing in front of several rows of old locker boxes. Each of them requires a key, but some of the boxes don't have numbers on them anymore. Looking behind me to make sure no one's around, I shove the key into the lock of the first one I come to, and my breath hitches when it fits. But, when I try to turn the key, it remains jammed in place.

_This is going to be harder than I thought._

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

After going through several lockers with matching numbers that I could see, I hear the sound of success as a rusty door pops open. I hold my breath, expecting to see a tin of money, a bag of jewels, or at least some family photos. The box is empty, however, except for a single key. But at least it's a clue to let me know I'm on the right track- - -right?

_Okay_...why_ give a key to get a key?_

My hands tremble with a mix of cold and excitement as I hold the newer key to examine it. It is blank, and I am hit with the thought that I may have hit a dead-end. But, comparing the two keys together brings me to the conclusion that this other key may very well open up another box in the same facility. My eyes scan the boxes once more, but I don't see the corresponding numbers in the row I am on, so I rise from my position, pausing to shake out a cramp in my leg.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

_Found you,_ I think as I come to another locker at the far end of the last row. This time proved to be a bit more difficult for me, forcing me to try the key in every lock until I reached the right one. The chipping green paint on the locker door had seen better days, the rusted lock begging to be utilized again as it sat neglected and forlorn.

_There's got to be something in here- - -_

The box creaked open. Another key rested inside.

_Why another flippin' key?_

I read the tiny numbers etched into its front, my stomach sinking when I do.

_144682-2- - - all the deposit boxes here have six numbers- - - this one has seven. Crap._

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

_I hate when I'm right, sometimes._

None of the storage lockers had seven number spaces, and none of them opened when I tried to use the key anyway.

_Maybe I should just give_ up, I think to myself as I sulk back to the main part of the street. The old man at the magazine stand waves to me when I return. _Maybe I'll just forget the whole thing._

"Excuse me, sir?" I say in a last ditch effort.

"Aye? What can I do ya' for?"

I show the grizzled man the series of numbers on my key, hoping that he would know something about the old boxes that I didn't. Gnarled hands, weathered and worn like aged leather, snatch the key out of my hand, squinting behind bottle-cap glass. His faded blue eyes shoot up to look at me, back down at the key, and then back to me.

"Now why would you think an old man like me knows anythin' about'ta key?"

My brooch seems to have caught his eye as they never leave it while he is talking to me.

My head hangs glumly as he hands me back my prize. "Thanks, anyways. Have a good day."

Just as I'm turning to walk away, I hear the old man's voice again.

"You're a far way from home, little lass, aren't you?"

My brows knit in confusion at the question. _Maybe everyone in Boston can tell I'm not a local...must be the UGG boots- - -_

I nod.

"Don't your parents miss ya'?"

_Man, this g__uy's nosy._

"They've both passed away so- - -"

My voice trails off, and I leave my explanation at that. Courtesy demands I'm not a rude jerk to my elders, but the next opening I get to leave this conversation, I'm taking it. He is now completely absorbed with my cane.

_Goodness, I wish people wouldn't stare like that._

"Been a long time since that day," the man replies, more like a statement than a question.

Before I could ask him what he meant, his mouth splits into a grin to show a couple of missing teeth.

"I was wonderin' if I'd ever see the likes of you, Miss Eleanor."

* * *

"Cold, cold cold," I complain through chattering teeth as I stiffly walk to catch a train to the Post Office the next day. The sky is swollen and grey, and I'm certain it will snow soon. My wooden cane, now held together by thick pieces of duct tape thanks to its bout with Bert, rattles noisily alongside me with every step I take. I exhale as I step out of the train, and my breath leaves a visible cloud in my wake.

I make my way into the rickety, yellow elevator of the Post Office only to be joined by Reddington and Ressler.

I move to the back while the two men stand adjacent each other. Red is on the phone, laughing jovially, much to Ressler's annoyance.

"Good morning, Agent Ressler, Mr. Reddington, Sir," I say just as Red finishes his call.

Ressler inserts his ID badge into a slot attached to a control panel in the elevator. "Yeah uh, mornin'," is his gruff response.

We then wait thirty seconds until we hear a small _ding_, indicating that he is verified to enter the Post Office's underground levels.

I maneuver around Ressler to put in my card, making sure I don't step on his overly shiny shoes. "Busy day today, if you don't mind me asking, Agent?"

"Like you'd know, seeing as you've been vacationing on some tropical island for the past two weeks from what I've heard."

I feel my face scrunching up in an unattractive way I cannot help. _The heck?! Is that what people think I've been doing all this time?_

Before I can say anything, Red's voice echoes in the space. "Give the girl a break, Donald. So what if she wants to go skinny-dipping with tall, exotic Bahamians while she spends her days sipping piña coladas out of overpriced coconut shells. Anything to get away from the cold drudgery of this place, I'll bet."

I stifle a groan and pray to whatever deity is listening that I don't break out in a nervous sweat. _Figures Red would be behind the rumor._

My laugh is much too loud. "Hah hah ah, yeah, um, skinny-dipping sure," I say in an incoherent jumble of syllables.

I try and fail to distract myself by pretending to adjust my Greta Garbo inspired, purple hat on my head.

Ressler cocks an eyebrow and adjusts his tie even snugger on his neck. "Some of us like to _do our jobs_, not decide to lounge on the beach all day."

I feel a creeping warmth coloring my ears. _And some of us would like you to keep your shitty comments to yourself- - -_

"Gum?"

I internally chuckle as Red extends a piece of gum to Ressler. Giving Red a wary look, the younger man finally relents and takes the stick of gum to pop in his mouth. The familiar _ding_ sounds again, and the elevator slowly descends to the bottom floors.

Red now extends the offer to me, his palm facing upward with the piece of gum in the center. He does not look behind him to meet my eyes, however, and an impish thought flashes through my mind. After all, we aren't supposed to be on knowing terms with one another, Red and I. I am supposed to be, for all intents and purposes, invisible.

_The game is on, Raymond Reddington, and I hope you're ready._

My eyes dart to Ressler- - -he's too busy looking at his smartphone to notice anything. Now's my chance.

I use my mouth to scoop up the gum in one swift movement, placing a feather-soft kiss on Red's palm before straightening up again, chewing on my gum happily.

Red's Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, and his jaw pulses on the sides which does not escape my notice. He quickly smooths out his expression, though, and he is just as unreadable as the day I met him.

His eyes remain sharp and steady, but he addresses Ressler merrily as soon as the doors open. "Yes, this is going to be a positively _spectacular_ day today."

* * *

Pretending to ignore Red, I dash off to my office in the back of the building. The old man had given me a single letter that looked just as old as he was. What utterly astounded me was my mother's crisp, cursive script along the front.

And the letter was addressed to _me._

I must have read the note about twenty times before the morning. Now behind closed doors, I have some time alone to think about the contents of the letter. I take out the folded, yellow paper while I read it again:

_To my little songbird,_

_If you are reading this, then that means so many things about so many things. However, your search for answers has only just begun. I would apologize for the long trip you had to make to a place you will not step foot in until years after writing this letter, but I have a hunch that you did not have to travel far to find this. Find what is described here, and you may find more doors opening up to you as well._

_Find blues- - -Darker than the storm, clearer in the eye, hidden within time. Under the gaze of an Eagle, you will find this oiled sea where the waters now run dry upon a long way; housed in a temple fit for Ploutos_-

_SICUT PATRIBUS, SIT DEUS NOBIS_

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

_Okay think, think, think_, I repeat the words to myself as I continue to ogle at my mother's fanciful handwriting to no avail. I read each word from the beginning, but I still have no idea what she is getting at.

"Mom-m-m," I whine like an angsty teen on the verge of an emotional breakdown. "I suck at puzzles- - -"

I have half a mind to crumple the offensive paper up and toss it into the trash, but what good would that do? What is it that she wants me to know?

I have a sheet of lined paper on my desk that I begin doodling circles on. "_Sicut Patribus, sit deus nobis_," I say under my breath until I sit up suddenly in my chair, the realization seeming painfully obvious. _Thank goodness all of those Sunday masses when I was a kid are finally starting to pay off. _I write a single word in one of the bubbles:

_Latin_

My mind bursts alive in the moment, and I roll my chair over to my laptop where I type the phrase into Google (I tried to plug the whole letter into the search engine, but came up empty-handed).

My eyes scan the screen as I read the results. I click on the first link, squinting as I try to figure out how all of the pieces are supposed to fit together. There, in large print on the screen, was the exact phrase in my note- - -it was the motto of the city of Boston itself.

I get excited as my mind turns this new information over and over. My goal is to "find blues", whatever the heck that meant, and I knew it had something to do with the city of Boston. Too many possibilities float around in my mind, so I decide to scribble down some notes.

"_Sicut Patribus, Sit Deus Nobis_ is the motto for Boston, check," I say aloud as I add another word connected to the word "Latin" by a dash:

_Boston_

I draw another bubble with the word "Ploutos" in the center, and after another Google search, come up with my answer:

_Greek god: wealth_

_Okay_, I think as I read the next part of the note from the bottom up, _What's next- - -waters that run dry upon a long way?_

I bury my head in my crossed arms. _That could mean anything..._

After several minutes of absolutely no leads to the answer, I skip it and read the next part above it. _Oiled sea...this oiled sea...maybe a disaster in Boston? No, that can't be right...maybe a place?_

I write several words in bubbles off to the side of my main web after drawing a larger bubble for the phrase "Oiled Sea":

_Event? Item? Place? Person?_

I then turn my attention to the mention of time, putting that word in its own bubble followed by words like:

_Father Time?, passage of time, clocks/watches/timepieces_

As for the eagle part, I am at a loss as to how a bird can be actually watching something or someone after so many years, so I can only assume it is a metaphor- - -

"Eleanor?"

I flip the piece of paper over to the blank side, looking up and plastering my best grin at the man standing in my doorway.

"Hi, Mr. Mojtabai, how are you today?"

"Please, it's Aram," he replies, stepping into my small office. "I need your report on the Yakusa group for my cyber-intelligence analysis for Cooper. Am I in luck?"

"Indeed you are, Aram,"

His eyes avert from my own only to rest on the website I had pulled up earlier.

"Planning on doing some sight-seeing this weekend?"

"Yea-ah," I say, dragging out the word as I close my laptop with a snap. "Yep, ya' know, since I moved here...and I live here...all the time now...thought I'd venture out into the world once or twice."

Aram opens his mouth as if to say something, but shaking his head, he smiles and remains silent.

"Hey," I say, twirling my straightened hair on the tip of my finger (I have so many nervous habits, I annoy myself, to be honest). "You know of any like...Greek-looking clock towers in Boston, by chance?"

Aram eyes me with a sideways glance. "Is that a hobby of yours? Clocks?"

"They are," I choose my words carefully, "_interesting_, yes. I like taking pictures of different kinds of public places with clocks- - -it's a bit weird, I know."

_Please let that be believable._

"Huh," he mused, his eyes looking up at the ceiling in thought, "There's the Custom House one that you might like, if that's what you're looking for. It's a historical building in McKinley Square."

Aram then turns his body, and uses his hands to describe how to get to the place from the Post Office. I blink my response to him and merely stare after his mention of the phrase, "North, north-east for about a quarter of a mile". I think I expected him to sigh in irritation at my utter lack of direction, but Aram smiles at me.

I watch as he smooths an errant lock of black hair away from his face, and proceeds to lean up against the door frame. Even in that slouched position, he's nearly a foot taller than me, and I suddenly feel very small and very silly.

"I could...I could take you there after work, if you'd like? Maybe grab some coffee?"

I jump at the chance without hesitation. "Yeah, that'll be great."

"Really?" His smile relaxes, "I mean, yeah, okay, see you after work then."

It is only after Aram leaves that it dawns on me what happened.

_Coffee can just be coffee...right?_

* * *

Five comes too soon for me, and I leave my office cluttered with paperwork that can wait until the next day.

I drop off my daily research to Agent Keen and wish her a pleasant evening. She seems distracted, almost sad even, and I feel a little bad for leaving without asking her anything about it. But Agent Keen has always been- - -standoffish- - -so I assume she may want her space even more than she wants someone to talk to.

For his part, Aram waits for me just outside of the Post Office. As I am walking to meet up with him, I see Red getting into a car with Luli and Dembe. If he sees me, he makes no indication whatsoever.

Part of me wishes I could just hop in the car with them, but I shove the thought out of my mind as Aram leads me to my final destination for the day.

"Thanks for taking me around, Aram."

"No problem. Ready to go?"

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

We stand in front of the massive tower while I take pictures with my phone (feigning excitement at coming back with "proper" camera equipment is not easy). I express a desire to get closer to the building, and when we reach the front steps, a uniformed woman offers us a self-guided tour of the original structure for five dollars. I ask Aram if it would totally inconvenience him if we went on the tour, and when he says he doesn't mind, we pay the lady our money. She then hands us two sets of headphones.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

"Custom House Tower is a whopping 496 feet tall, with the original construction beginning in the 19th century- - -"

The automated voice drones on until the words "a four-faced, Greek temple" capture my attention. I listen intently as the woman's voice carries on:

"Before land reclamation was done in the middle of the 19th century, Boston's waterfront extended right to this building. Ships moored at Long Wharf almost touched the eastern face of the building. The Custom House was built at the end of the City docks, to facilitate inspection and registration of cargo."

_Long Wharf...could that be the "long way" Mom was talking about...and all this stuff about merchandise and money...that points to the Plautos thing so- - -_

"Interesting so far?"

Aram is looking down at me with his own headphones off of his ears.

"Y-yeah," I say, wringing my hands together so he doesn't see them shaking.

"I just didn't know that there used to be water here, and now it's all dried up. I would've liked to have seen all of the cargo and stuff coming in and out of here."

"Funny how things change over time," he replies as we trickle into the large room in the main building. The lobby had chairs and other remnants of its past displayed around the room. I do my best to hold back a gasp when I look up, heaven forbid Aram get suspicious.

_This is it! This is the place Mom is talking about!_ I want to exclaim with glee when I look up at the ceiling of the dome roof- - -the seal of the United Stated is painted there, complete with an eagle looking down on those below.

_Best tour ever._

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

"It's a bit cold today, don't ya' think?" Aram says as he blows on his expresso. He hands me a mocha (with extra whip, of course), and we go to sit down in the coffee shop. The smell of various coffees ignite my senses, and the soft chatter of patrons adds to the warm, cozy ambiance of the place.

"I guess so," I say, taking a cautious sip and then withdrawing when I get my tongue burnt.

We continue to talk quietly, Aram asking the usual polite questions one asks another acquaintance while I do my best to not make myself look dumb in front of a co-worker. Regardless of the questions he asks me, my mind drifts to the information I've discovered.

I catch a cab home later that evening, and I am bombarded by a sudden rain. Racing into the Writer's House, I take a quick shower before hopping into bed. I can barely close my eyes at night I am so excited. I feel like a detective about to break a very big case- - -and I can't wait to tell Red.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

The silence is deafening when I jolt awake in bed, covered in sweat. I look at the clock only to realize it is one in the morning. Huffing irritably, I get up to walk around the room. The hardwood floors creak under my weight, and I shutter as thoughts of haunted houses and ghosts invade my tired mind.

I rustle through papers I find shoved into the corner of one of the bookshelves in the pursuit of something to read. I find a recipe for coconut curry, instead. I shrug and head into the kitchen to raid the cabinets.

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

While I am missing some ingredients like potatoes and eggplant, all of the spices needed to make the curry sauce are there so I decide to try it out.

_Screw it, not like I'll be able to sleep any time soon, anyways._

I set out a pot to warm on the stove while I spread out all of the spices I would need. I see my mother's cryptic note resting near the kitchen stove where I had last left it, and as soon as I have the base of the curry cooking, I read it again. It's not that I need to read it, it's just- - -_her_\- - -my mother's handwriting; It's as if I've found a long lost picture I didn't even know existed. At some point in her short life, my mother had sat down to write this to me. It was almost surreal to have the letter in my possession.

I did not watch the pot cooking because a loud hissing sound permeates the room as the pot overflows.

"Crap!" I lunge for the pot only to spill the bottle of turmeric all over the letter.

"No, no no!"

Wiping the brown substance from the letter as best I can, I want to kick myself for being so clumsy. Now the paper is going to stain and there's nothing I can do about it. I try to wipe the brown smudges off of the paper with my shirt once most of the powder is removed, but something unexpected occurs when I do so- - - white marks appear around the brown as if someone had written something there. I rub my finger over the marks, and they have a different texture than the rest of the paper.

I now drag my finger across the page in long, sweeping strokes until a line appears before my eyes amidst the powdery, amber marks. I bite my lip, trying to make sense of it all. It reads:

_Hints are not always visible at first glance._

I work quicker now, my pulse beginning to spike in anticipation as I dump more turmeric to rub onto the paper. More words appear, and I am flabbergasted:

_To get something of value, you must give something of value. Your step two involves Hakim Bahar._

_MP will be of great use to you: Piazza Rosso, 5, Firenze, Italy._

I gawk at my discovery. All of these things happening to me...they only raise more questions than they answer.

_Just what am I getting myself into?_

* * *

**Credit to Wikipedia for the info used here~**


	9. Conflicting Emotions (p2)

**Chapter song: Butterflies and Hurricanes by Muse**

**A/N: I'm having trouble with the formatting for some reason, so if it seems like I jumped around a bit, chances are there should have been a divider there. Enjoy and let me know what you think!**

* * *

_Just be cool...just ask him...no big deal._

Swirling, icy wind nips at me through my wool coat, but it does not faze me. I had every intention of cornering Red the next day at work to show him what I've discovered, but he and Agent Keen were busy throughout the day. Now it's evening once more, and I am walking the streets of Boston again, to a second location where Dembe is waiting for me with a car.

Exchanging pleasantries takes only seconds, and soon, the smell of high-end leather and a distinct "new car smell" fills my nose as I take a seat. Thank goodness the seats are heated, my tense muscles finally able to unwind as the two of us sit in silence for the first few minutes.

"How are you this evening, Miss Elli?"

I look up to see Dembe's unreadable face. "Fine, thanks. And yourself?"

"Good."

There is silence once again, and I fill it by tapping my shoes against the floor.

While his dark eyes are still fixated on the road, Dembe reaches for a necklace on a simple gold chain hanging from the rear view mirror.

"It is the prayer I said for you, written inside." He hands me the necklace, and I examine the writings on the small, gold box before putting it around my neck.

"It will keep you safe."

..｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

I take a moment to drink the man in- - - from his black and purple, silk-backed suit vest and black, long-sleeved shirt to his shoeless feet covered in diamond patterned socks. His ankle is crossed at the knee, propping up the latest edition of _The_ _New York Times_ as he scans the latest stories.

I clear my throat, but Red doesn't look surprised in the least at my presence. If I didn't know any better, I would say he's enjoying teasing me this way.

"Ahem...so-o-o Red...?"

He turns his gaze to me and I find myself opening my mouth without any sound coming out. I know I probably look like a sorry excuse for a gaping walrus, but I can't help it. His green eyes are just so..._diverting_.

And who would have thought I would ever use a word like _diverting_ to describe a guy? Not me, obviously. Ugh, even in my own head, my thoughts sound like those cheesy rom-coms I binge watch on Netflix on the weekends. Note to self: find more productive hobbies.

"What do you know about my mother?"

He sets down the newspaper he had been reading, giving me his full attention. "I know a _lot_ of things, Elli."

I exhale slowly._ Focus..._focus_ on what you need to do, and not on the fact that he keeps licking his lips every time he says my name- - -_

I pace back and forth in front of him. "Erm...about her life...involving you."

He nods his head ever so slightly at my words and stands to face me. "You've found something."

I pull the aforementioned note from my coat pocket, excitement making my hands tremble as I walk toward him. "Yeah, I did. I can't believe it, to be honest. Look here, it says that- - -"

Red steps back from me when I try to point to a line in the letter. "I can't help you."

I am taken aback by the reply, and my hand hangs in the air. "Um...oh, well, uh- - -"

"Rather, I am obligated _not_ to help you," comes Red's swift response, expression softenening.

Disappointment makes my heart drop at the sound of his words. I chew on the side of my lip thinking, my thoughts coming in fast and numerous.

"Don't look at me like that, Elli, you don't know what it does to me," Red comments before placing a kiss on the side of my mouth, brushing his lips on the corner of mine.

My thoughts quieten and all I am left with is the thought of how Red is looking at me now.

"I'm sure you'll figure out a way around it," he adds slowly, almost like an apology.

He continues to watch me, his lingering gaze traveling over my body. What he's thinking of, I can only guess, but I push those thoughts out of my mind as I concentrate on what to do next. I need someone to help me, because I know I can't do this alone. I know I am not meant to work solo, but Red can't help me.

My eyes light up in sudden realization and a soft "Oh" leaves my lips- - -sometimes the simplest solutions are the right ones.

_Just because Red isn't able to help me doesn't mean Luli and Dembe can't._

"Mind if I hang around here for a while?"

Red grins. "I'll call Luli and have her order an extra gyro for you."

..｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

I sit down after having thrown the leftover wrappers from our Greek meal earlier. Dembe is now resting with his feet on a ragged-looking leather ottoman with a beer in his hand, while Luli is working behind an old television to hook up some wires to it.

"What an odd nuclear unit you three make," Red says as he enters the room with a thick book tucked under his arm. I beam at him and his mouth upturns slightly in reply.

Positioning a console in front of the tv, Luli then takes the remote control to switch the input to another screen. Red chuckles and proceeds to make his way over to a flatback chair with the stuffing oozing out of the sides. But, before Red can even get comfortable enough to read, his assistant, Grey, is by his side. All eyes are now on Red as words are being whispered into his ear.

_I wish Grey would blink like...ever._

Now Red is back up, rotating his shoulders. Grey hands him a coat, hat, and shoes, and the Concierge of Crime is in full-attire. "Business calls. Don't wait up for me."

I give Red a small wave goodbye, and push down any feelings of nervousness I may have. He meets my gaze and his eyes flash something so quick I almost missed it. Sadness, maybe?

Dembe and Luli get up to follow Red, but he puts his hand up to stop them. "Just Dembe and Grey this time, my dear," he says to Luli "You and Elli can bond over makeup and adorable kittens while I'm gone."

* * *

"Hey-y-y," I sing as Luli settles into a particularly comfortable chair as she turns on the gaming console.

She tosses a Playstation 3 controller my way, which I nearly drop. She presses a few buttons, and the room is soon flooded with the creepy sounds of a zombie killing game. She sets the game to two players, and we begin.

"Can I ask you question?"

Her on-screen character stabs a zombie in the neck, and I watch it crumble to the ground. "Shoot."

I pick up a shotgun to blow the brains out of a group of zombies swarming us."If I needed help...say, doing something that may or may not be exactly safe, could you help me?"

Curses polute the air as she gets killed in the game. "Depends on what it is."

I make my character slide on the ground to get more ammo (man, this game is fun). "Okay, can I ask you another question, then?"

She sighs as the screen finishes loading, and we come to the next level. "My name's Luli, not Siri," she retorts, a smile tugging at her usually stoic face.

I stick my tongue out at her and she fails to hide a full grin. "Har har," I quip, mashing buttons on the controller in no particular order only to be eaten by zombies on the screen. "So funny I forgot to laugh- - -_and-d-d_ I died."

Luli's uncharacteristic snort-laugh puts a grin on my own face. "Anyone ever tell you that you don't act your age?"

"Nope," I reply happily, flopping down on the floor at her feet to sit closer to the tv screen.

"You going to tell me about this 'not exactly safe' thing you wanna do, or are you gunna' make me guess for shits and giggles?"

"Better make an extra large pot of tea," I say in my best (terrible) English accent, "It's going to take a while."

* * *

The next day at the Post Office, Aram knocks on my door just as I'm finishing up my latest regional culture report. I wave him inside.

"Hey, Aram," I say as he comes in, "Thanks for the help the other day. Probably woulda' ended up in the wrong state if I were to go it alone."

"No problem," he replies. His hands tighten their hold on a small package wrapped in brown, sack-paper until he sees the pictures of our outing to the Custom House on my computer screen.

He points to them with a smile. "Got some nice ones there?" he inquires.

I pull up my mail program on my computer. "I can e-mail them to you- - -"

The door flies open and Red is here, taking off dark sunglasses with a smirk on his face. "Agent Keen requested that- - -oh, it seems I've interrupted something."

Aram fidgets even more with the parcel in his hands, but nevertheless, sets it down on my desk.

"Right...I have something for you. I- I remember you saying how you got lost that first day and all- - -" he stops, eyes flickering between Red's expression and mine. He rushes to finish his explanation. "- - -and then, when you didn't show up for work, I had found out from your office mate, Whitney at the DC office, that you'd been in the hospital so...so..."

I smile up at him as he rubs the back of his neck with a hand and laughs weakly.

"It's a tracking device," Aram says. He edges closer to me, now nearly leaning over the small desk as he lifts what looks like a small doorbell buzzer fitted with a light sensor, from its package. He turns it over and over in his hands when he notices my curious look.

"Not to um, stalk you or anything," he says, pointing to the small button to show me how it works. "Just put this in your car or purse, and if an emergency should come up, we can use a synced computer to find you easily."

I whistle, impressed.

"Plus, by activating another feature of the device, any phone number dialed within a hundred feet of it will be transmitted to whatever computer you link it with."

I take it from his hands, doing my best to act normal while Red is watching the whole exchange. "Wow, you made this yourself?"

"Yeah, I am the Tactical Technician, after all. I would've brought it to you earlier when you first got back, but I was still tweaking it. I'll forward you the programs used with it when I get back to my office."

I set the device next to me on my desk. "Cool! Thanks Aram, I'll definitely use it."

I hear Red suck his teeth loudly, and our focus turns immediately to him.

"_Well_," he comments as he clears this throat, "now that Christmas is over and done with, might you come with me, Ms. Simon?"

My eyes widen. _What happened to the part about us not interacting at work? _

Red puts his sunglasses on to indicate we are going outside. "Your services will prove most helpful on a Blacklist case I have in mind."

Aram adds with a nonchalant shrug, "I was going to ask if you'd like to go for a sandwich at the deli down the street during your lunch break, but if the valuable Mr. Reddington requires you, I suppose I can't steal you away then."

Red laughs and smiles with a shake of his head. "No, you most certainly cannot," he responds with a gesture for me to follow him. "That'll be all, Aram."

I tell Aram I'll see him later, and he excuses himself politely to go back to work.

"Follow me, Ms. Simon," Red then says to me brightly, "you know how Lizzie doesn't like to wait."

I scramble to grab my belongings when Red exits my office. I finally catch up him just as he steps outside.

"Wha-what Blacklist case, Re- - - er, Mr. Reddington, Sir?"

Red laughs and remarks about how much he loves Belize during this time of the year.

* * *

I head over to Red's latest safe-house, and I am in awe by how exquisite this place looks compared to the shack that was his last place.

Walking into an enormous foyer, I see a black grand piano off to the side, its ebony and ivory keys still shiny and new. Gravitating over to it, I am pleasantly surprised when my bare feet hit a heated marble floor. I reach out to stroke a key, only to hear Red's melodic voice interrupt my actions.

"That look is the face of a musician just _itching_ to get her fingers on a good instrument."

_Always the perceptive one- - -_

"No," I finally reply, my voice echoing in the large space. "I haven't played since..."

I stop, thinking for a moment before smiling wryly. "- - -for several years now. Not that I was ever any good to begin with."

"In any case," Red says, leading me to another room lined floor to ceiling with books, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"

I show him an envelope in my hands. "I need to send this off, discreetly. Is it okay if I ask Dembe?"

The man in question appears moments later, and Red leaves me to talk with him alone.

..｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

_To MP,_

_I am the daughter of Christopher Smith and Irene Blackbird. I may be on the verge of discovering something of great importance. My mother said I would need your help, so I am asking for it._

_I hope this letter finds you in good health and good spirits._

_-Eleanor_

Looking at the letter in my hands, it seems strange to me to write out my parents' names after all these years. I never did go by the name Blackbird (for it was my father who took my mother's name after marriage); preferring to take my aunt's last name of Simon, instead, even though my mother and her were only half-sisters. I ask Dembe if he'd be willing to get this letter to the proper address without raising the suspicion of anyone at all, civilian or criminal alike. He takes the letter I hand to him with a nod.

* * *

"It's too late to go back to the Hemstead House," Red tells me after I am done speaking with Dembe. "I have another safe-house I can put you in for a few days."

We are in the library wing of the home, and I choose the book _Brave New World _from the shelf before answering him. "But, Bert's dead. Do you really think I'm still in danger?"

Red is already in the middle of reading _The Great Gatsby_. "Cut off one head and three more spring up, Elli. If Bert was still in the high position he was years ago, people will go looking for him. And if they do, they will certainly end up looking for you, too."

He sits down, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze before opening his own book. "I know Luli will be thrilled to have you stay for the evening."

I hear a distinctive scoff coming from the next room. "Don't listen to a word he says, Elli. _He's_ the one that's thrilled."

* * *

"Ah, there you are," Red says happily when Luli comes into the room some time later. "I've been _dying_ to scope out that dignitary's house a few miles out from here Swing by there and check out the place for me, will you? And take Dembe with you too, just in case. The housekeeper will let you both in. She's a massive woman, built like a six-foot-tall Amazon warrior- - -you'd like her."

Luli raises an eyebrow at him, looks to me, and heads off on her errand. My face must be so red right now I can't even bother to check my reflection in the large mirror over the fireplace.

"Now that we are finally alone," Red says, his voice deep and low. "How about a game of chess?"

My laugh comes out more like a cough. "You want to play..._chess_?"

"Did you have something else in mind?"

_I want you to bend me over that piano here and then- - -_

"Nope, chess it is."

It's no surprise I lose every single game (most of the time was spent having Red explain to me the rules of the game). Yet in no time at all, I find myself yawning constantly. Red helps me up as my leg begins to bother me, and we say our goodnights for the evening.

It isn't the first time I am surprised by just how- - -_gentle_\- - -Red is when it comes to me. Nor, do I feel, it will be the last time I have such a thought. I bite the inside of my cheek as I dispel other insecurities that manage to worm themselves into my consciousness just as I lay down to sleep.

* * *

I wake up to the sound of my own screaming. I rub my bloodshot eyes before trying to tame my wild curls to no avail. I don't want to go back to bed, so I begin to walk. Soon, I find myself in the library again, and Red looks up at me from where he is sitting, nursing a glass of bourbon.

"Having nightmares again, I take it?"

I hum my acknowledgement. "That obvious, huh?"

Red pats the seat beside him. "Sit with me."

I take one step toward him, but remain standing. My eyes follow Red as he pours something hot into a small mug, stirring it slowly with a golden spoon.

"Drink," he says, handing me the steaming cup.

I inhale something that smells sweet before tasting it. "Milk?" I ask as I sit down.

"With just a dash of cinnamon and fresh vanilla," he answers as he washes down the last of what he had been drinking.

"Normally, I would offer the woman in my life some fine wine after a hard night," he smiles crookedly at me, and I feel my cheeks reacting to his breathy tone, "But, that doesn't suit you for the most part, does it?"

I give Red a one-sided shrug. "I drink, I just don't crave it, typically."

Much like the time before, Red and I just sit in the company of the other, drinking quietly in an easy silence.

Finally, after a time, I hear Red addressing me again. "Sleep evades me too, if that makes you feel any better."

"It doesn't," I reply, Red draping a large blanket to cover the both of us.

I can't help the smile on my face now as I curl up beside this man. The nightmares of Bert torturing me slowly fades, and all that I am left with is this warm feeling of contentment. Then I remember Aunt Lilian- - -I will never see her smile again, and my chest begins to ache. I separate myself from Red so I can look at him properly.

"I...I don't know if this is a good time to ask this..."

"Stop, Elli," he says flatly, choking my words back down my throat before I speak again.

"Really, you must get over this unfortunate habit of yours of apologizing for voicing your opinion."

He leans toward me, so dangerously close I can smell the spiced aftershave he wears mixed with the bourbon he's just consumed. I instinctually inhale, reveling in the buzzing feeling running through me.

"R-right," I say, chuckling to try to dissipate the backflips my stomach is doing. "Okay then, Red, there's something on my mind that I want to speak to you about."

He slings his arm lazily around me, pulling me closer. "Good girl, start talking," he nearly purrs in my ear, causing me to shiver. "I enjoy the sound of your voice."

I tuck my feet underneath my body. "I don't...know where to begin."

Red's eyes flutter closed. "Keep going," he says, tipping his head against the back of the sofa. "I have all the time in the world at the moment."

I rest my head against his chest, his heartbeat calming me. "I am so many things right now, I just don't know what I should do."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to clarify that for me, Sweetheart, because I don't have a clue what you mean."

I turn my hand to crack my knuckles with a sigh. "I am... happy when I'm around you, excited even- - -" Red cracks one eye open to raise an amused brow at me, and I stutter and squirm in his arms when I continue talking, "- - -E-Excited in a happy, _yay-omigod-you're-so-cool-Red_ kinda' thing."

Now it's his turn to be amused, sending vibrations through his whole body in a suppressed laugh I can feel as I lean up against him.

"But, that's wrong...I think, because Aunt Lil she..." I stop, trying to gather my thoughts as my throat begins to burn.

I use a finger to swirl circles onto the exposed skin peaking out of Red's shirt. I feel him shifting underneath my touch with a low murmur rumbling in his chest, but he does not interrupt me.

"Aunt Lil's only recently passed and I _should_ be sad about that... I _am_ sad about that. And the whole thing with Bert and my parents just...I just...ugh!" I grunt in frustration, balling my hands into white-knuckled fists. "I don't know how I can feel happy with you when I'm supposed to be sad and angry now. I _shouldn't_ be happy now, all things considering."

He squeezes my shoulder. "Ah...but that's the beauty of the human experience, isn't it, Elli? As the social scientist that you are, you should know first-hand of all of the complexities of our nature. Why merely choose one, single emotional state to immerse yourself in when you end up denying yourself the possibility to feel so much more...to _live _so much more?"

He kisses my hair before repositioning me up against his side, his voice low and velvet-smooth. "If you are happy, be _truly_ happy. If you are sad, be truly sad. Feel it all coursing through you, mind, body, and soul. Take it from someone who's been where you are now- - - bottling it, trying to crush it, burn it or hide it only ensures a slow and painful death for you. I've accepted what I am, and you can do the same- - -it's a positively _liberating_ experience."

The room is quiet once more as I contemplate what's been said. A thought occurs to me as I begin to feel my eyelids getting heavier.

"How is it I always seem to end up on a couch with you pouring my heart out?"

Red looks solemn for a time, and peers at me with those green eyes like he did when he saved my life all those years ago. Shaking his shoulders as if to rid himself of a thought, he presents me with a youthful grin that makes his eyes crinkle at the sides.

"You're a cuddler, Elli, and I am only all too happy to oblige."

He wraps his arms around me and rocks back, forcing me to intertwine my body with his to keep from falling off of the couch. I giggle like a girl half my age, and we remain there in a tangle of two bodies, Red's breath pleasant and warm on my skin. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him, not wanting to ruin the moment, yet still pining for his touch. Red, for his part, seems content with the way things are, and begins to massage my temples in slow, clockwise motions once we part.

He whispers something in my ear, but I am already half asleep to respond properly. I hear a soft chuckle before I fall completely asleep in his arms.

* * *

Luli and I continue to work out a plan to find out what is hidden in the Custom House over the next few days. She shows me how to read blueprints of the building from a set she's procured from public records, basic tactics needed to get in and out of the building, and emergency protocols should one of us get captured. I know I shouldn't be doing any of this from an FBI standpoint, but I need to know the answers- - -no matter the cost. Finding what my mother's hidden could be the key to starting a new life, to so many things, that I can't afford _not_ find out.

By the end of the week, Luli has drilled so many procedures into my brain it feels like mush. The muscles in my hands ache, and I curse into the empty room I'm staying in at the moment. Red's been checking in with Elizabeth over the course of the week, so I thank my stars everything just happened to fall into place when I needed it to. The times when Luli is needed by Red, I hone the skills she's taught me so far- - - like picking locks and disarming various types of alarms.

I throw a lock-pick to the side and wipe my damp brow with a towel.

_If I would have known this, I could have gotten myself out of Bert's place much_ sooner, I remind myself sternly, picking up my tool and getting back to work. I_ could have relied upon myself and not other to save me._

The lock clicks open and I smile.

Next week is self-defense, and I can't wait.

* * *

Taking out a laptop from a bag, Luli flips it open to show a running program. Tonight is the night we've decided to raid the Custom House in the hopes of finding something of my mother's. Now sitting in a hidden car just outside of the building, Luli briefs me on the work to be done.

"We have, at best, ten minutes before the backup security system kicks in, signaling the alarm and restoring the camera feed. After that, we need to be finished and out of the building before the police are able to respond. Got it?"

I nod, my breath becoming shallow as the time ticks on.

"Do you remember our route?" she asks as she smears paint over her eyelids and extends it until her hairline in a thick, black bar.

I nod again, adjusting a gold Carnival mask over my eyes and nose.

Luli's eyes flit up and down when I give her a thumbs-sign (I'm sure she can hear my heart beating out of my chest.)

"The look fits you," she says before lifting her jacket hood to hide her face.

"And don't forget to pick up the disrupters on the way out. Wouldn't want people to know how we've disabled all of their security equipment."

..｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

Luli makes easy work of the back door's lock, and we are soon inside. The darkness that encompasses us is murky and thick like a cold soup. My throat, dry and itching, begins to clench as my nerves get the best of me. Waiting while Luli sets up the disrupter feels like an eternity, and has me shifting from side to side on my feet.

_We shouldn't be here._

"We're live. Let's go."

The woman in front of me is calm under pressure, her footfalls more silent than breath itself. I shut my eyes, inhaling deeply only to exhale slowly three times. By the third time, my heartbeat is no longer thudding in my ears, my hands relax and my mind starts to function once more.

I follow my mentor and friend as we snake our way through the twists and turns of this dark place.

..｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

"Here, the U.S. Seal is right above us," I whisper to her as we set our bags down.

"Look for anything new or out of place," Luli says as we search the room in a grid pattern. We run our hands over the walls, push the furniture out of the way, and feel our way along the floor tiles. I have a countdown setting on my watch that I'm using the keep track of time, but all it is doing is making me more anxious.

One of the tiles catches my eyes and I hop over to it. "This one here," I try to move the large white square out of its original place. I start to panic when I realize the thing isn't budging. "Piece of crap, stupid thing won't- - -"

Luli's eyes scan the room in a practiced motion. "There's got to be another mechanism to get it to move then."

She jogs over to a railing made to look like a marble ring that is sitting directly under the eagle seal. Within seconds, I head a soft _click_ as Luli pushes down on one of the pieces. The circular structure turns with a resistant croak, marble grinding against marble in a sound like grating nails on a chalkboard.

"Grab and push," Luli commands, grunting with exertion as we pool our strength together.

Together we push the wheel until it makes one complete rotation. As it fits back into place with another _click_, the floor tile I had noticed before now slides underneath another one to reveal a large hole in the floor.

I gasp, bringing my hands up to cover my face and to hide my utter shock when we lift something from its hidden tomb.

"Holy shi- - -" I mumble, unable to finish the profanity, "Is this...oh my gosh, this is it, Luls!"

It is sitting serenely, staring up at me as if it had a life of its own. My gloved hands move over the canvas without touching it, and I don't know where to look next. It is a seascape, the ocean blues angry and vengeful as the waves crash up against a boat in a frothing collision like a rabid, attacking animal.

I make the Sign of the Cross, touching my right hand to my forehead, heart, and to the left and right side of my body. It oddly feels like the right thing to do.

"Are we supposed to just..._take_ it?"

"Of course we're supposed to fucking take it, Elli," Luli hisses at me, "What do you wanna' do? Sit around singing 'Kumbaya' to it until the police find us and haul our asses to jail?"

"I can't believe I'm doing this, I can't believe I'm effing doing this. Sorry for the language, but shit!"

Luli laughs as we wrap the delicate painting in special paper to avoid ruining it. "I just can't believe you just called me Luls...Grandma."

I bow to her from the waist. "Oh, I beg your pardon, Luli-The-Great-And-Powerful."

"Such a nerd," she quips, "If you're done gawking, we need to leave before the disrupter's time is up."

..｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

I don't know whether to laugh or get sick, so I choose the former so that Luli wouldn't get upset if I hurled in her nice car. Fortunately for my nervous stomach, the feeling subsides rather quickly, and I am left with an overabundance of excited energy.

* * *

**Episode 6: Gina Zanetakos (No. 152)**

_Red: I'm looking at it right now. It's beautiful. What? Oh the blues. Well... the blues look- - -_

_Grey: Blue- - -_

_Red: Green and Grey. The gaping maw of the ocean. It's mesmerizing. I don't know why the hell I'm doing this._

* * *

Luli drives to Red's next safe-house, and we haul the painting into a warehouse. It's filled with many other boxes I can only assume are for Red's shipping business as well. I ask her if it would be okay if I showed Red this myself, and she wastes no time in heading out the door with a sly smile on her lips and a "Good job, Elli.". Now I just have to run up the stairs to the living quarters to get Red, and I am so excited, I don't even bother using my cane to reach him.

..｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

"Red, Red!" I say as I practically run towards him. "Red, you gotta' come see! Come see, come see!"

The man I'm looking for is sitting at a long table, a deck of playing cards in his hands.

He arches a brow at me, his voice clearly bemused. "Elli, I haven't seen you this ecstatic since...well I've never seen you this ecstatic. Did you find my secret stash of sex toys in your new safe-house?"

I take him by the hand, squealing in delight. "No, no, you'll _like_ this surprise, trust me!"

Red smirks. "I'm pretty sure I'd like the surprise I was thinking of, too."

I tug at his hand impatiently only to take the cards out of his hands to set them on the table. I resume pulling his arm like an over-enthused puppy. "Hurry!"

He laughs and allows me to lead him to the basement warehouse in the building. "Okay, okay, I'm coming."

..｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

Red's audible gasp makes the whole nerve-wrecking thing worth it.

His voice sounds like a river running over stones. "_Eleanor_," he sings my name before brushing my hand with his lips in an almost reverent way. He parts from me to kneel in front of the painting, his expressive green eyes alight with wonder. "What do we have here?"

He rubs his hands together, squinting at the artwork in front of him."Rembrandt's _Storm on the Sea of Galilee. _It's incredible, absolutely stunning. I thought this beauty had been lost forever after a theft in the 90's."

He turns back to face me, his face puzzled. "Where did you say you got it?"

My voice is smug when I answer. "I didn't. Present from my mother, I guess you could say."

He rights himself and glides over to me. "You minx. I must say, I am very- - -" he closes the gap between our bodies, his hands ghosting up my arms to rest on my shoulders, "- - -_very_, surprised by you."

I smooth out his collar, pretending to be preoccupied with the action. I articulate every word when my eyes meet his. "Just surprised?"

His wolfish grin and darkened eyes take my breath away, and my body leans toward him.

A hand slithers up to caress the curve of my neck. "I've been wanting to do this since you ate that stick of gum out of my hand the other day."

He tastes like black tea and mint when his lips meet mine, moving slowly as if to commit the moment to memory. Closing my eyes, a tiny sigh escapes me, and I feel Red's answering growl that is equal parts primal and arousing. His lips push harder, coaxing my mouth to open wider to receive his wanting tongue. I stand on my toes as leverage to deepen the sensation, every fiber in my body seeming to come alive at once.

Large, warm hands smooth over my hips, toying with the space where my shirt ends and my skin begins. We continue, playing between the line of carnal heat and warm softness, our tongues and mouths becoming acquainted and then reacquainted with the other. I reluctantly pull away, my breath coming in short bursts.

"Before we continue, and believe me, I want nothing more than to continue, I need to make myself perfectly clear."

"Mmmhmm," Red breathes in my ear before peppering my forehead and cheeks with kisses.

"If we continue this- - -whatever _this_ is- - -it won't be just a-a- - -"

Red raises a quizzical brow in my direction, his grin mischievously innocent. "A what?"

"A _fling_," I say, exasperated, "I don't _do_ flings. There're no maybe's or kind-of's with me. Take it or leave it."

_Please let me not screw this up royally- - -_

I wait for him, each agonizing second feeling like a year.

"Likewise," Red replies as he nods, "I _hate_ sharing."

His lips are on mine, dominating and hungry before he speaks to me again. "Especially when someone thinks it is their right to give you gifts and take you out for coffee at little cafes with C-grade musicians begging for tips from a glass jar."

I try to get a good look at his expression, a smile threatening to appear on my face. Tilting his head to the side, our gazes hold each other's for a breath's time.

"Is this...is this about the thing with Aram?"

His mouth travels over mine again, his teeth toying with my bottom lip devilishly before he answers. "Why don't you tell me the answer to that question."

I smirk and reciprocate his affection momentarily which gives me the pleasure of seeing the slightest amount of surprise in Red's eyes.

I lean in to whisper in his ear. "I prefer men to boys, thanks."

His laugh is deep, sensual, and haughty. "Of course you do," he replies as he strokes my spine softly , sending a tingling sensation through me. "And I'll make damn sure you'll live to keep that sentiment."

* * *

We sit, Red and I, and just gaze at the artwork for hours. He doesn't speak, I don't speak- - - we are both just taking the piece in as if we were in a museum.

Red eventually turns to me. "What are your plans, Elli?"

I make an "I don't know" sound. "I'm sorta' confused about what my mom wanted me to do with it."

Red walks towards the exit, pausing to stretch at the door. "Take your time to think things through, and then come and see me."

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date with a hot bath and Hawaiian, volcanic lava salts to go with it."

"Should I pack up things here and meet you upstairs?" I ask, not wanting to invade Red's business space for longer than I'm welcome.

"No, I'll leave you alone with your catch. The first one's always a little more special than the rest."

And with that, the door closes behind him, and I am alone.

* * *

I close my eyes, my hands now slowly running over the antique frame. I don't know how long I have been standing here, watching the painting as if it were to spring to life at any moment. I squat, my eyes roaming over the thing slowly. Looking at the piece as a whole, something seems off about the frame. Part of it looks tarnished, its gold edges faded to an inky brown color. But there's one piece that is different than the rest.

_Look for things new_, I recite Luli's words as I grab the piece of the frame in question and tug.

It _moves_.

..｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

_BTL SBZNPOE SFEEJOHUPO_

I examine the piece of paper that was hidden in the frame. _One more clue, one more step closer to finding what I'm looking for._

I try different things to decipher the note's meaning- - -changing the letters to numbers, making sentences with the letters, and Googling the spaced out "words" to see if they mean anything. Nothing. I know the spaces must be separations for words, but how to put them all together to make sense is eluding me.

A tall shadow invades my field of vision, and I see Dembe approaching me with a leather chair in his arms. Placing it in front of the painting, he returns carrying a lamp with him this time. He always seems to show up with what is needed at the time.

"Dembe?"

He turns to face me.

I show him the piece of paper. "Know anything about secret messages?"

He stares at it for a while before answering, "Have you looked at the alphabet?"

When I blink blankly at him, he continues on. "Perhaps the letters mean other letters."

My eyes roam back over the paper, and Dembe comes back one last time to bring me a lined sheet of paper and a pencil. He smiles as I'm bouncing in my seat from happiness.

_It's a pattern...how could I be so dense!? These letters are really the letter before it in the alphabet! Yes! 'B' turns to an 'A', 'T' to 'S', 'L' goes to 'K'. _

I look down at what I've written so far.

_ASK_

_Jesus, Mary, and Joseph- - -that's it!_

I was prepared for another clue to the puzzle, another thing that had to be done once I deciphered the message.

Too bad I wasn't prepared for what the message actually said:

_Ask Raymond Reddington_

* * *

"This," I shove the message under his nose. "It all leads back to you."

He ignores my angry tone and continues to talk to me as if nothing were wrong. "Yes, Irene liked her scavenger hunts...liked to make me work for things, as I recall. What did the letter say?"

I cross my arms, turning my body slightly away from him. "I thought you were obligated _not_ to help me."

He comes up behind me, placing his hands on my tense shoulders. "Now that the hardest part is over, I can help you again."

I scoff, but don't move myself away from his touch. "Did my mother leave instructions for you or something?"

"She did. What do you want my help with?" He says, clearly dodging the question.

"She said my next step involves some guy named Hakim," I reply, finally able to show him the original letter I had been saving in my pocket.

His eyes quickly read the letter in its entirety. "Sounds like her...I told you that your father and mother were trackers, remember? Some of the best in the business?"

I nod my head, my anger chipped at the mention of my parents.

"It wasn't just missing people your parents found, but _clients_ as well. Your mother especially, always had a 'hunch' about which deals could be procured with whom. Had her people in all _sorts_ of places. I don't know how she did it, but it was always amazing how things would usually turn out if she was working on a job."

He turns me around to face him. "Who was it this time that helped you? An unassuming gardener, a waitress at a local diner perhaps?"

I smile at his intense gaze before averting my eyes. "A magazine stand owner."

Red then walks behind me to retrieve a cellphone from a small coffee-table.

_He's not going to get off that easy._ "Will you tell me what my mom wanted with all of this?"

He flips the phone open. "In good time. For now, you just need to focus on procuring _your_ first client."

"So...I guess we need to get a hold of Hakim, huh?"

Red smiles, pushes a button, and waits for an answer.

"Exciting, isn't it?"

..｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

It was too much to hope for so soon. The man named Hakim didn't answer, so I decide to return to the safe-house Red had in mind for me until something can be done. It feels nice to have a small room to myself, but I miss the Writer's place already. Red makes me promise to see him first thing in the morning the next day, so I walk the few blocks over to where he is staying. He hasn't called Hakim back yet, but is certain he will have an answer for me before the day ends.

It's still much too early for me to go into work, so I seek Red out, finding him in a bedroom buttoning down a beige, checkered suit vest over a white buttoned-down shirt.

_He knew this all along...knew I would find these clues, and knew that it would all go back to him. Why?_

His expression breaks into a smile at the sight of me. "Are you angry with me?" He asks, immediately entering my personal space without hesitation. "Angry that I kept things about your family from you? That I knew all about your mother's letter, but didn't tell you?

Red fiddles with the collar of my shirt, dipping his hand underneath to run two fingers along my collarbone, inching dangerously close to my black bra strap.

I shudder under his touch. "I'm sure you had your reasons."

"Don't be coy, if me keeping secrets from you upsets you, you need to say so."

"And like I said- - -ah _Red_, I c-can't concentrate when you do that," I trip over my words when he places quick kisses just behind my ear, his clearly amused snicker echoing around us. "You don't lie for just any old reason."

His breath tickles my ear. "You shouldn't be so willing to trust a criminal, Elli."

I move my hands gently along the sides of his face, taking his black fedora off and setting it on a nearby nightstand. "I don't trust criminals." I keep my eyes locked on his and my voice soft but firm when I finally answer him.

"I trust _you_."

I feel his grin pressing against my neck. "Trust can be misplaced."

I stretch out my neck to lean into his kiss, my eyes shutting on their own accord. My hands put pressure on his chest, and Red sits on the bed, his cat-like grin exposing the whites of his teeth. "I'm not trusting you to be a stand-up citizen who pays his taxes and never jaywalks. I trust you to act exactly as you are. I trust you to act like Raymond Reddington."

My heart feels like it is about to jump out of my chest, and yet, I surprise myself by arranging myself on his lap, kissing his jawline delicately. I hear Grey's voice calling Red, and I roll my eyes at the man. I have no choice but to gingerly get up without tripping over myself.

Red chuckles at my obvious frustration as he stands. "What a time to be interrupted, yet again. And I was just on the verge of asking you to call into work sick today."

I laugh, my face warm and flushed with emotion. "Yeah, um, well, I'll just...I'll just head on to work now."

Red walks me to the door, his hand never leaving the curve of my back. "I like your new way of talking, we should do it again soon."

I grab my own hat, coat and cane before heading out into the world. "Most definitely."

* * *

"I'm looking at it right now. It's beautiful," Raymond Redding says with a small tilt of his head.

"What?" he inquires, listening intently for a moment, "Oh the blues. Well..."

He stands upright with his eyes still examining the piece. "The blues look- - -"

"- - -Blue." Grey interjects only to be quickly silenced by Red's burning glare.

"_Green and grey_," Red responds, carefully choosing his words while making sure Grey hears his more "appropriate" answer. "The gaping maw of the ocean. I don't know why the hell I'm doing this."

...｡. o.｡. o.｡. o.｡. o...

I get to the Post Office early that morning, reveling in the eerie silence that greets me as soon as the doors to the elevator shut behind me when I step out of it. I am painfully aware of all of the security cameras, and my heart begins to race. All of the adrenaline from the previous night is gone, leaving me drained and on edge. I rush to the safety of my office.

_No one got hurt...no one reported the tower being broken into. No one even knew the thing was there. I didn't really steal anything...it was there waiting to be found...don't freak out..._

Just then, a burst of noise and commotion stream into the room, and I am surprised to hear the authoritative shouts of other agents. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I dash out of my room to investigate.

I stop at the end of my hall, peering around the corner to get a better look. I see a man in plaid, pushing up large glasses on his nose when he isn't wringing his hands on his shirt. Agent Keen, her eyes bright with unshed tears, whispers a few reassuring words before the armed team leads the man off. I hobble as quickly as I can back into my office when I see the other officers coming my way to pass the hall.

_Elizabeth's husband? What the hell is he doing in the Post Office? What has been going on since I've been busy?_

I fumble with my phone, thumbing through my contacts until I come to the name "Slender Man".

_Can't be too careful_, I make a mental excuse as I tap the name and the call goes through.

There's silence on the other end, precisely three seconds worth of silence to be exact.

Grey's monotonous voice comes across as a whisper over the phone.

"What color is the lotus in the pond?"

I whisper a single word.

"Red."

"Line is secure. You may proceed."

* * *

"Hakim, remember me to your wives- - -_all _of them."

Red hangs up the phone just as Grey is ending his own call. His lips thin in concern- - -very few people had access to that phone number.

"What is it?"

"It's about Agent Keen. And her husband."


End file.
